


Everything

by raelee514



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of self-harm, angst all the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 93,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/pseuds/raelee514
Summary: How dare he kiss him.How dare he suggest they go to bed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> They started yelling dialogue at me and all I could do was write some of it down.

The Phoenix was busier than Thomas expected and a few quick questions on his way to to the bar, as he meandered through the crowd, he learned it was because of a new band. Apparently, they were quite good and enjoyed mingling with the crowd as well. The little he knew about musicians he didn’t find the last part strange at all. He took in the club, remembering clubs like this from his past. The Phoenix, however, seemed classier and more upscale…. It suited him better than the more rowdy places of his youth. He was quite pleased he found out about its existence. 

The Phoenix catered to men and women of his sort. It appeared and was in a lot of ways simply another club in London, but it wasn’t that simple that all. There were backrooms and the chance to meet someone like yourself without the games one had to play out in the open. Thomas was never fond of the games. He was never good at them either — too bold and too hopeful. He stopped daring to take chances ages ago, feeling safe only when he places like The Phoenix. 

But it been a long time and he was feeling it. The loneliness that was always with him was starting to feel like too much to bear again. He fiddled with the cuff of his right arm as he stood near the bartender, waiting to catch his eye to order a drink. He looked around feeling nervous and unsure. He only had two days in London before he would have to return to Downton. He arranged the trip that way — he was doing this for himself. He needed it. The only question was if he was ready for it? He was dipping his toe in. He was going to keep his options open. He wasn’t going to go off with the first man to look at him for more than a minute. This wasn’t about scratching an itch, and it wasn’t about finding someone. He wanted something in between he thought — someone he truly liked with a mutual beneficial intimate arrangement. It seemed a plausible idea and knew hurrying wouldn’t help him find what his body and mind yearned for…. 

He picked his drink off the counter with his left hand and fiddled a bit with his right cuff again. He was yearning for someone other than himself to touch him. He just wanted to make some sort of connection with the man first. Something he never worried about in his youth. Something he thought he had time to worry about as he got older. 

Nerves threatened him again as he realized that was more than mere years since the last time he stepped foot in a place like The Phoenix. It was quite a few years, and he laughed when he thought about that younger version of himself. He told himself he didn’t need to care about the men, but he almost always ended up with a bruised heart. He sighed and shook his head. There was no need to dwell on the past. His reasons for his long break between visits were long and complicated. 

He knew places like this but the time away had him feeling as if it was his first time again. He drank a generous sip of his drink, fiddled with his cuff and looked around for a safe place to sit. He saw an empty table, with only one chair at it and hurried toward it not wanting someone else to sit in his chosen sanctuary. It was near the stage, perhaps a bit too close but if the chatter he was hearing was true — the band was an attraction people came to see. 

He glanced around himself as he sat and saw all the seats and tables were quite full. He lucked into his seat, and a smug smile pulled on his features as he leaned back in the chair and brought his drink up to his mouth. He wasn’t in a hurry, he would sip, and people watch. He would make a careful judgment. He wasn’t going to let the loneliness control him, not this time, but he wasn’t going to ignore it either. 

He would find some way to feel less alone. 

A throat clearing had him looking to his right. Two men stood by the table, with chairs behind them. “Would you mind if we sat with you?” 

Thomas looked around and at the two men again. They were holding hands he noticed, and he instantly relaxed a bit at that — neither were likely to want to try something with him. He swallowed a sip of drink realizing he felt more nervous than he expected to be when it all came down to it. “Sure, why not,” he said and gestured at the table. 

“Thank you… Full disclosure our friend Stanley is coming too, but you won’t have to worry about him. He’s here for the pianist,” the blonder of the two said as they settled down.

“I’ve heard the band is quite good,” he said. 

“We’re Albert and Gregory by the way, it’s nice of you to share,” the other man said. “And yes, the band is quite good and our friend Stanley has made it his mission to bed the pianist.” 

Thomas choked a bit on his drink. He liked to think it was hard to scandalize him but the truth was it was rather easy too. He blushed a bit but laughed good-naturedly. “I see… I’m Thomas.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” the two men nodded. 

“Is this your first time here?”

“Here. Yes,” he said. 

“But you’ve been…”

Thomas tugged on his right arm cuff again and hoped his nerves weren’t too obvious. But then try as he might he never formed a very good poker face. “It’s been awhile…” he admitted. 

“Getting over someone?” Albert asked. 

“No…” he shook his head. “Life was just rather… obstructive to nights like this.” 

The couple exchanged a look, but neither said a thing which Thomas appreciated. He decided however he should be polite and make small talk. And perhaps it being a couple would be advantageous. He could work on his conversation skills without the pressure of trying to make a deeper connection. “I’ve heard chatter about the band? What kind of music?”

“American Jazz mostly but they change it up a lot… they’re quite good, and people end up dancing, it’s quite a good time. Do you dance,” Gregory asked.

“No,” Thomas said as he remembered standing on the Dowager’s toe. “I have two left feet.” 

A dark-haired man suddenly appeared from the ever-growing crowd by the stage. “It took me quite some time to find this. I swear there are fewer chairs everytime we come.”

“That’s because there are more people.” 

“Who is this?” 

“Thomas,” he said and held out his hand politely.

“Stanley,” he shook his hand quickly and then he was squeezing in between Thomas and Albert. “Good, they aren’t setting up yet… I’m going to talk with him while they do.”

“Cause that plan worked well last time,” Albert laughed.

“I’m wearing him down,” Stanley said. “Have you heard them play?” he asked Thomas.

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat. They’re quite good, could be playing a better place than this, a good place, a place that would get them noticed. But glad they’re here instead. It’s all Jimmy. They’d be nothing without him.”

Thomas spilled his drink down his front.

“Oh, dear, what a mess…” Albert said and handed Thomas his handkerchief.

“Uh, yeah… it just slipped out of my hand,” Thomas muttered, and there was a buzzing in his ears and hope swelling in his heart. He had to quash it. It was merely a coincidence. There were probably thousands of men named Jimmy who played the piano. He pulled out his handkerchief and managed to dry himself off and felt happy he’d been wearing a dark suit. He would have to send it to the dry cleaners.

“I’ll get you another drink, it’s on us for sharing the table,” Albert said. 

Thomas wouldn’t turn down a free drink.

“Oh, this is a good seat, he can see our table from the piano,” Stanley said.

“You’re obsessed,” Gregory laughed. “Thomas are you sure you’re okay, you looked spooked.” 

“I’m fine,” he lied because he was spooked and the buzzing in his ears hadn’t calmed because his heart was pounding in a way it hadn’t for years. He closed his eyes and thought it was unfair. It was wrong and cruel that his heart belonged to someone who likely didn’t remember him at all. He hadn’t thought his name in a long time — but it’d be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of him at all. Because he did all the time, but in a nebulous way, the thoughts weren’t allowed to fully form, and the fantasies were carefully curated so he could fool himself into thinking it was only his imagination. 

The hope was irritating because there was no reason for it and he cursed his romantic nature. Jimmy Kent wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this and this Jimmy whoever he was simply shared his name. He wasn’t going to let this dampen his night, no he was dipping his toe in and he was looking for a connection. A real one. Something realistic and something that wasn’t going to break him into a million pieces. 

He probably wasn’t remembering Jimmy face right anyway, it been years and there was no reasonable way he could remember the dimples and creases his smile created precisely. It was a fuzzy and idealistic memory, and he would just slip it back away where it came from.

“You don’t seem fine,” Gregory said.

Thomas forced himself to look at him and saw himself looking into kind eyes. “I will be,” he said more to himself than Gregory. 

The man nodded. Thomas settled himself and focused on his breathing. He started watching the crowd again before Albert returned with drinks for the whole table. He thanked him and returned to scanning the crowd, slowly putting Jimmy far back into his mind again. 

“Oh… there he is. He’s wearing the blue, thank god, the brown looks awful on him…”

“You sound like a child,” Gregory laughed. 

Thomas rolled his eyes at Stanley’s idiocy and glanced at Stanley. He was dark haired and almost as tall as Thomas and was rather unremarkable in appearance. As he flattened his hair and sounded a bit like Lady Rose used to when she spoke about young men. 

“How do I look?” Stanley asked them all.

“Beautiful,” Albert said.

“Gorgeous,” Gregory said.

Stanley looked at Thomas.

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Stanley laughed and stood up. “Wish me luck.”

Thomas despite himself tracked Stanley as he walked through a crowd of people that were blocking the stage. He wasn’t the only one who wanted a moment to chat up the band. Thomas glanced around and found it an interesting phenomena to watch, and he wondered now if the band could live up to the expectations all the admiration was creating in his head. He saw Stanley stop by the piano and then a head of dark blond hair. He shifted in his chair and felt uncomfortable. His heart seemed to lurch in his chest… 

It was wishful thinking, and he must stop. Getting such a fancy in his head it was pathetic, he scolded himself, but he stared at the hair because its owner was bent over, sorting through some bag. It wasn’t Jimmy, he told himself, and as soon as the man straightened up, he would know it for sure. And he could stop being a daft and silly man. 

Only the man straightened up, and Thomas found himself staring at Jimmy Kent. He blinked his eyes. Frantically and quite a few times. The world turned black with purple fuzz around it before his eyes focused again and he had even a clearer field of vision to the piano. And it was Jimmy. His Jimmy. No. Thomas felt dizzy and a bit sick to his stomach. He bent over in his chair and took in a few harsh breaths. 

“Thomas?” it was Gregory he thought, with a hand on his back. “Thomas, are you all right?”

It wasn’t him, he was… Seeing things because he was a foolish hoper. He straightened up but avoided looking toward Jimmy. “The pianist what is his last name?” 

“Kent, I believe. Why?”

“It… can’t be,” he whispered.

“What? Do you know him?”

Thomas couldn’t shut his mouth, he felt quite literally slacked jawed, and he looked back over at the man at the piano. Not, not the man. No. He looked at Jimmy Kent and felt a wave of familiarity that nearly knocked him out of his chair. Jimmy nodded at Stanley with an expression Thomas knew almost as well as his own. Jimmy was being polite but he was holding his tongue, because Stanley was boring him. 

Stanley, however, was clueless and he put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and laughed about something loud enough it carried to the table. Then Stanley turned and pointed at their table. Thomas felt like all his insides were shaking and he stared, his mouth open and his eyes probably popping out as Jimmy’s eyes fell at first on the table. He took in Albert and Gregory as if he was used to seeing them and then he looked at Thomas like someone looked at something new… 

And Jimmy flew to his feet and his eyes widened. He pushed right past Stanley and was walking straight toward the table. Thomas panicked, he panicked and stood up too quickly, his chair fell to the floor. He looked around for route. He needed to run — obviously. But the crowd was too dense, and he didn’t know his way around the club all that well. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy was right in front him and staring at him like he wasn’t sure he was there. Thomas knew the feeling, and he stared at him. They stared at each other. 

“You know him,” Stanley was back at the table.

Did he know him? Thomas shook his head and looked around. He saw where they were. Where they were and what been said about Jimmy? How he was… “The Jimmy I knew wouldn't be in a club like this,” he heard himself say in a strange monotone. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy face flushed, and he looked down at his feet. “There is a lot… I was going to write you.”

Thomas' mouth clicked closed, and his teeth vibrated. His heart was hammering now, but all the strange hope and odd disbelief was gone. “You were going to write? You’ve had years to write.” 

The guilt on Jimmy’s face did nothing to calm Thomas’ ire. “I know this is…”

“Impossible,” Thomas spat him. “I can never give you what you want…” he spat out words he never forgot.

“There is a lot to explain. We can go talk in the back, and I’ve been staying upstairs I have a room…”

“What? No.” Thomas looked around and realized he had to get through the crowd. He had to get out, and he started walking away.

“Thomas,” Jimmy called out from behind him.

Thomas kept walking, he shoved past people and walked into them. Jimmy behind him and was calling out his name, but he didn’t dare turn back. He kept pushing and thought he found a route to the coat check but ended up at a dead end. He turned, and Jimmy was right there. Looking up at him guilt in his eyes and Thomas cursed because he’d remembered Jimmy’s face in perfect detail. 

“Please? Can we talk?”

“I…”

“Thomas, please?” Jimmy reached out and grabbed his right hand. 

Jimmy's hand was warm against his, and he shivered. They could talk, he could listen, and he could find out how Jimmy Kent ended up here. Maybe listening would be okay, because maybe it would somehow make sense. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Jimmy smiled at him, and Thomas licked his lips. He felt fingers threading with his own and looked down. Jimmy was holding his hand, was gripping it really and linking them together. He was pulling Thomas to the left, toward a door, and Thomas' heart started to pound so hard it felt like it was hurting him. Everything felt uncertain and he blinked as Jimmy led him to a small room, near a staircase behind the walls of the club. 

“Um…” Thomas started because he was questioning this decision. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with him at all. He wasn’t sure it was even happening. It felt impossible because the facts as he knew them meant it couldn’t happen. 

Jimmy Kent squeezed the hand he was holding and stepped into his body space. “I was… truly, going to write you. I’ve wanted to see you,“ Jimmy’s left hand touched his face. “I remembered you perfectly… and I’ve been dreaming. Dreaming about telling you how beaut…” 

“What?” Thomas flinched and yanked his hand free from Jimmy’s. “Don’t. You don’t get too… You don’t.”

“I know it’s a shock, and I’d be shocked too if I wasn’t me…”

“You. You left, and you didn’t write.”

“I was in America.”

“Oh. They don’t have post?”

“I was learning a thing or two…. Where are you…”

Thomas pushed past him and looked around the hallway they were in. “I need to leave.” 

“No. Don’t…I’m happy to see you….” Jimmy grabbed his right wrist and moved in front of him, blocking him from moving. 

“You’re happy to see me?” He spat out.

“Yes… Thomas, I…”

“Just keep quiet,” Thomas snapped.

“I want… you’re shocked, and I want to explain.”

“There is nothing to explain.” 

“I was going to write. Soon. I’ve wanted to see you for so long now…”

Thomas felt a thumb moving against his skin, Jimmy touch warm and the intimacy of it was creating havoc with his senses. A voice was whispering at him to go with it, to cave and let Jimmy follow through on the promise that was in his eyes… eyes that kept looking at his mouth. Thomas closed his eyes, the sensation of Jimmy’s thumb caressing his skin seeming to lull his mind into slowing down and processing everything around. 

Until his thumb hit the thin line of smoother skin, newer skin, the sensitive skin of a scar. Thomas gasped and tensed. Jimmy stilled as well and his brow furrowed as he lifted Thomas' hand up higher to look at it better. His left hand pushed back Thomas’ cuff, and Thomas closed his eyes and stopped breathing as Jimmy stared at the scar on his wrist. 

“Thomas?” 

His eyes stayed closed, and he shook his head.

"Thomas?” Jimmy’s voice broke. 

“I have to…” but the words died on his lips because lips brushed over the scar and Thomas eyes flew open and watched Jimmy’s mouth press another kiss over his scar — intimate and real. His heart pounded, and Jimmy looked at him, and Thomas didn’t see horror or judgment. He saw fear and concern. Jimmy dropped his hand and pressed forward. His hand on Thomas’ face again.

“Why?” he whispered. 

Thomas stared at Jimmy and laughed, and something cracked inside of him. Jimmy Kent was in front of him. Jimmy Kent was caressing his face. He stepped forward and cupped Jimmy’s face with his hands. His eyes on that mouth, that mouth he still dreamed about, that mouth he once pressed his lips again for the briefest of moments. He saw Jimmy glancing at him, at his mouth and he leaned down and kissed him. 

They sparked to life like fire. Mouths open and hungry, nipping at lips and thrusting tongues into their mouths. Jimmy pressed Thomas against a wall and seemed to try to climb into him. Thomas pushed Jimmy’s clothes until he touched skin and licked Jimmy’s jaw. He nipped at his neck and his throat, his hands pushing against fabric and seeking more skin. 

“Upstairs,” Jimmy’s voice was harsh in his ear. “The bed…” 

Thomas froze, and he shoved Jimmy off of him. He stared at Jimmy, who stood there with his lips swollen from the kiss and a mark on his jaw from Thomas’ teeth. It was all he ever wanted. It was everything he dreamed. But it’d been all fantasy. It’d been something dangled in front of him and then taken away — he hadn’t even kept the friendship because Jimmy left and hadn't looked back.

“Goodbye,” he snapped at him and shoved past him. He kept walking until he saw a door that led outside. He would get a new coat and a new hat, he thought. He needed to get out of here and away from him. He had to get away from him because how dare he…

How dare he claim he was going to write. All these years later.  
How dare he kiss him.  
How dare he suggest they go to bed.

“Thomas, Thomas…” Jimmy yelled after him. 

Thomas hurried across a street.

‘Thomas. Wait, please…” Jimmy yelled.

Thomas stopped short and turned around. A few cars were on the road, stopping Jimmy was crossing it. But he was staring at Thomas and Thomas stared back. He was beautiful, more than Thomas remembered. And now he tasted those lips, and those lips had kissed his scar… 

Thomas shivered. 

He wanted him.

He loved him.

Always.

He loved him.

He was angry.

He turned around and ran. 

“Thomas,” Jimmy yelled.

He kept running

“Thomas….” Heavy footsteps behind him.

He saw a taxi, and he waved for it and scrambled inside. He looked out the window at Jimmy on the sidewalk staring at him and shaking his head and calling out his name one last time.


	2. Chapter 2

His hands shook as he pulled out a cigarette. The Abbey loomed ahead of him as he walked down a familiar road. His heart pounded as he realized something he’d always known but never fully admitted. The best days of his life been within those walls. He hated service, he hated Carson, and he found Bates sanctimonious. The Crawleys were nice but boring — the exceptions being the Dowager and Mary. Both always good for a pointed remark that he had to fight not react to, but he’d glance at Thomas, and share minuscule smiles that never got past Carson’s all-seeing eye but were always worth it. 

He left and thought he wouldn’t look back. But his entire journey once he stepped away from Downton led him right back to it. He felt the panic rise as he thought about Thomas. Their reunion had been a mixture of his deepest held secret fantasies and his worst-case scenarios. It was the latter that kept him not writing to Thomas since his return to London. Even if was only a few weeks he knew he should’ve written right away. But he hadn’t written the entire time he was in America, and a voice kept whispering to him that Thomas might not want to hear from him. Too much time had passed, years had gone by without Jimmy meaning them to…as he kept telling himself he’d write when he returned home. He’d write when there wasn’t an ocean between them. Excuses and fear — and uncertainty kept him from trying. 

He was finding himself in America, despite himself, his life went the path he thought he would always run from. Memories of Thomas were the fuel of it, thoughts of Thomas always easily at hand. Music and men and he grew up — a bit. Maybe. He felt young and unsure as stone and dirt crushed under his shoes. His heart was pounding. The ghost of Thomas’ mouth against his skin burned and he gulped as the lust shot through him and felt ashamed. Because Thomas' eyes had flashed with fear, pain, and anger as he fled Jimmy. He ran into the street and nearly into a car, frightening Jimmy more than he already was — the memory of the scar on Thomas' wrist had made his stomach twist. The knowledge that Thomas fell into something dangerous and wrong and he’d been all alone. 

The guilt made tears prick at his eyes and he wiped at them. He pushed it down because the important thing was seeing Thomas. Trying to explain, he owned him the explanation. Jimmy was under no illusions. Thomas may never forgive him. He knew Thomas, and he could be a hard man and unforgiving when he felt slighted. And Jimmy never meant to but he slighted him the worst of ways. He lied, he’d walked away, and Thomas had no way to know he’d been with Jimmy the entire time. 

Explain and apologize that was his mission. He knocked on the door and waited, but no one came to open it. Feeling a slight sense of deja vu he opened the door himself, he stepped back into the halls of Downton Abbey and found his way to the servant’s hall. A footman stood up and looked impossibly tall, and memories of Alfred returned — now there was someone he had forgotten until prompted. 

“Can I help you?” the footman said.

“I’m here to see Mr. Barrow,” Jimmy said to the footman standing in his way. 

“James?” Mrs. Hughes appeared from out nowhere.

“Mrs. Hughes.” Jimmy smiled at the sight of her and her face. It was nice to see her again, he thought. “Hello. I was hoping to see Mr. Barrow.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

He heard footsteps and soon a woman stood by Mrs. Hughes. It was Miss Baxter. He smiled and then smiled again as Anna appeared behind her. The two of them were staring at him with wary expressions. But he turned his attention back to Mrs. Hughes. “I’d really like to talk to him, Thomas… Mr. Barrow.”

The three women shared a look, and Mrs. Hughes was about to speak when Thomas walked into the room. 

“What is going on?” Thomas asked and stiffened at the sight Jimmy. 

The sight of him was a relief because his color was normal and though his face hardened at the sight of him, it wasn’t naked with fear and pain as it had been through the window of the cab. 

“Thomas, I was hoping…”

“No.” Thomas cut him off.

“Yes,” he pressed because he owed explanations, apologies and more.

“No.” Thomas grabbed Jimmy's elbow and started pulling him.

“Let me explain…” he cried out and tripped a bit on his feet trying to keep up with Thomas’ pace. “Please, Thomas, will you at least let me explain.”

Thomas halted and dropped his hand. He shifted to face him but looked at the wall Jimmy’s head. His expression was angry, and he seemed unable to speak. 

“Let me explain.”

“Explain what exactly?” Thomas’ voice was distant and clipped.

“Well, um…” he looked toward the servant’s hall. Daisy had appeared and was next to the tall footman, Mrs. Hughes, Miss Baxter, and Anna were all looking them. The raw concern on their faces was disconcerting, and it hit Jimmy in the gut. It was proof that he caused pain and trouble. But their opinions meant little. All that mattered was Thomas. “Why I was there, why I haven’t written…”

“Yes, Jimmy why haven’t you written,” Thomas’s voice was sharp. 

“I was in America, went there almost straight away after leaving Downton. I didn’t want to be in service anymore…” Jimmy cursed himself for babbling.

“America,” Thomas repeated snidely. 

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been back…”

“Just about a month, I was going to…”

“Write? Were you?” Thomas yelled. 

“I was… I just… I didn’t write when I was in America because there was an ocean and….” The rationale, his excuse for years turned empty when it hit the air. It was horrible, and it was a lie. What was he thinking? He tried to correct his course but ended up babbling. “I didn’t write while I was in America for a lot of reasons and I lied to myself about why and…”

“And?”

“Well, so much time passed, and I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

“I don’t,” Thomas spat out, but his eyes betrayed him. Jimmy saw a flicker of want before anger swallowed it up again. It gave him a glimmer of hope, and it felt gratifying to know he could still read Thomas.

“You do…” he argued. 

Thomas’ expression hinted at murder but Jimmy push on a sense of confidence from knowing the man in front of him. 

“You do…” he lowered his voice and stepped closer. “I should’ve written. I shouldn’t have made excuses. I was going to write; I was, I was just waiting to work out the details on my flat in London…” he groaned as stupid excuses found their way to his tongue. He took a breath. “Allow me to explain?”

Thomas looked away from him and closed his eyes. Jimmy held his breath and hated his natural impatience. When Thomas opened his eyes, Jimmy found himself staring directly at fury. “Explain what exactly?” Thomas' hands rose, and he smacked Jimmy on the chest making him stagger backward. “How a womanizing prick turns into a lavender pouf because they went to America?” 

Jimmy cringed. His reasons. What he been through. It sounded trite and stupid. His excuses were nothing in the face of Thomas’ pain, and he wanted to reach out and touch him. Give him something concrete to show Thomas he could trust him. But he came up empty. 

“That’s what I thought,” Thomas sighed, disappointment making his eyes shine. “Go.”

“No,” he shouted realizing Thomas misinterpreted his silence. “We need to talk about….It.” His eyes fell onto Thomas’ right hand and thought about the scar and what it might mean. Thomas needed to know Jimmy thought about him every day, every day he was away. 

“It?" Thomas echoed in a monotone, and his eyes followed Jimmy's gaze. "Which…. It?”

“Both.” Jimmy nodded because it was the truth. They needed to speak about what they’ve both been through, what they both done. Thomas may not forgive him, but he had to hear the truth. He reached out without thought and looped his hand around Thomas’ wrist, his thumb finding the scar. A piece of him hoped it wasn’t true, that he hadn't felt it, that he hadn’t kissed it. Wishful thinking, wanting to erase something ugly and something wrong. But it was there, and there was no mistake. Jimmy couldn’t hide from it any more than Thomas could… 

He met Thomas' eyes. There was pain and want, but the anger was the dominating emotion, and Thomas whole expression was a looming storm. Jimmy knew he deserved it. Worry rose up a painful stab in his heart. 

“Just…” he stepped closer and closer needing to be closer. He backed Thomas into a wall; the hallway was too small to hold them. He stroked his thumb down the scar. “If you tell me you’re all right, if you say that and I believe it, I’ll leave.” 

“Jimmy….” Thomas' voice was a warning, but Jimmy wasn’t sure who it was for? Him or Thomas. He opened his mouth to repeat what he already asked but Thomas' eyes moved to the left. Jimmy followed them, and he flinched. He’d forgotten their audience. Five shocked and worried faces were staring at them, and maybe he should care about what they were seeing and hearing. But the only thing that mattered was Thomas. 

“Tell me you’re all right and I’ll leave…” he said again looking right at him.

Thomas' gaze turned soft but not forgiving. Jimmy held his breath and watched Thomas look at Mrs. Hughes and the others then back at Jimmy. It happened two more times. His eyes darted back and forth swiftly, and Jimmy nearly laughed. He’d missed watching Thomas think. And he was thinking, rather loudly, it was beautiful. Jimmy both hoped and feared finding out what it was Thomas was turning around in his brain.

“You’ll…” Thomas muttered to himself.

“Tell me and…” the thought was cut off by Thomas' hand on his face and Thomas chest bumping into his, and he staggered backward until his back hit the wall. He heard the thump of his body just as he felt Thomas mouth against his, and his tongue licked at Jimmy's bottom lip. 

It was knowing Thomas that made it clear to Jimmy. What Thomas' intent was and he nearly laughed because it wasn’t going to work. He moved up onto his toes and opened his mouth. Jimmy kissed him back with as much force as Thomas kissed him. It was felt the same as it had in the club the other night, primal and perfect and he pressed in and kissed Thomas hard. They staggered where they were, hands grabbing at their clothes, trying to break through the fabric and tongues thrusting they tasted each other. 

“THOMAS.” 

Mrs. Hughes sounded far away, and Thomas’ hands were clutching onto him, and Jimmy wasn’t going to be the one to end the embrace. There was a point to be made. He kissed him, and Thomas deepened the kiss but a split second later his hands were smacking Jimmy’s chest, shoving him backward and they broke apart. Jimmy met wild eyes, and Thomas shook his head. “No, go… Go.”

“You’re not okay,” Jimmy whispered because the kiss was his answer. Thomas was in pain, but he had known that since last night. Now he was just more sure. “You’re not.”

Thomas shook his head and stalked down the hall. Jimmy followed him, right on his heels and the got up to the first turn when a male voice called out from behind. “Mr. Barrow wants you to leave.”

“Please stay out of this…” Jimmy felt a weight lift from his chest as he heard Thomas speak over him. “Thomas?”

“Stay out of it, Andy.”

“Mr. Barrow…” it was Mrs. Hughes. “I think…”

“Mr. Kent and I will be taking this discussion upstairs, where we can be alone. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.”

“Thomas,” Miss Baxter hurried up the stairs, giving Jimmy an unfriendly look. “I don’t…”

“It’ll be fine, Miss Baxter,” Thomas said, but his voice wavered. 

“It will be,” Jimmy said to Thomas.

Thomas turned and started walking. Jimmy hurried after him and felt relieved when all he heard behind him was silence. Soon they were upstairs, and Thomas led him to a room different than the one he lived in when Jimmy was at Downton. It was bigger and held finer furniture and a comfortable looking bed. Thomas sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Jimmy felt something twist in his gut, and instantly he was sitting next to him and placing his hand on Thomas' back. 

“You’re not all right.”

“No.”

“Thomas I’m…”

Thomas turned and clamped his hand over his mouth. “No.”

Jimmy shook his head confused.

“Not yet, you don’t get to yet… nothing empty, Jimmy.”

“Empty?” Anger attacked him, and he shouted against Thomas palm, and it fell away from his face. Jimmy kept yelling. “You kissed me in front five fucking people I kissed you back — you think it’s EMPTY.” 

“No letters, Jimmy. Nothing and then I see you in a club for my sort…. MY SORT and I’m just supposed to accept it, and you don’t know, you don’t know!” 

Jimmy grabbed Thomas’ wrist again and hiccuped, and it was then he felt the tears in his eyes and saw they were in Thomas’ as well. “I know a bit, don’t I…” he stroked the scar and glanced at his other arm realizing the glove now hid two scars. “I’m…”

“No,” Thomas snapped

“We have to talk…”

“No…” but that wasn’t what he was saying at all. Thomas grabbed his face again and kissed him. It was aggressive and angry. Jimmy growled when Thomas bit his lower lip and kissed him back in equal measure. He crawled over Thomas who was allowing it, even as he kissed Jimmy mouth or throat like he meant to do damage. Jimmy crawled over him and straddled him, he braced a hand by Thomas' head and stared down. Their gazes locked and Jimmy felt his insides seize up with a want far greater than his mind could process. This moment shared nothing with his fantasies and dreams. This moment wasn’t quite what he wanted, he didn’t want to be angry, and he didn’t want Thomas in pain. But they were both, and despite the ugliness, it was better and more right than anything else in his life. 

He got lost in the kissing. It was messy and wild. Jimmy matched the angry passion, but he wanted to slow it down, wanted to pause for breath and catch Thomas gaze. But anytime he tried, Thomas pulled at his clothes harder or surged up to brutally kiss. Jimmy surrendered to it, and he kissed, pulled and shoved and soon Thomas was naked underneath him, and suddenly he was the one who slowed down, and Jimmy growled out an angry whimper. 

Thomas laughed, and it was a strange sound given the anger in the room. “Just…” Thomas twisted to the left and stretched his long arms toward a short table by his bed and opened a drawer. He pulled out a tin of petroleum jelly and soon he was back where Jimmy thought he belonged on the bed. Jimmy moved over him and took the offered tin. He scooped his fingers into it and moved, but Thomas grabbed his wrist and stared up at him. Jimmy swallowed as he looked into his eyes. They were stormy with warring emotions, and his cheeks were red from a dark blush that went down his chest. 

“I…” Thomas moved underneath him and spread his legs, fingers wrapped around Jimmy's wrist and moved his hand to his entrance. “After the other night… it won’t take much.” 

Jimmy flattened down over Thomas, his forehead dropping to his and inhaled sharply. Images of Thomas taking care of himself with his fingers, with his hands and he whined because he hadn’t gotten to see it. “Thomas…” he said softly and wished he knew what words Thomas needed to hear. 

Thomas face hardened in response and lunged up, pulled at Jimmy’s hair and yanked him down into another violent kiss. Jimmy felt himself caving once again, and he always would. He kissed him and then he pulled back and brought his slicked up fingers to his entranced and pushed one in. Thomas let out a low moan, and Jimmy grabbed the base of his cock with other hand and inhaled. He stared at Thomas as he worked his finger and then the other inside of him and he didn’t need to do much more, he could feel it — but his fingers were inside Thomas, and he wanted to take a moment, a breath and feel it. He wanted to know that spot where he should thrust. 

Their eyes locked again, and Thomas’s expression lacked the angry angles, and he stared at Jimmy, mouth parted, and he licked his lips. Jimmy leaned over him again and kissed him. Deep and passionate but softer and he tried to put in all the apologies he understood that he owed him into the kiss… 

And Thomas whimpered, and Jimmy thought maybe that was it was working, they could slow it down, but Thomas shifted and locked his legs around Jimmy’s hips and ground up. He pulled at his hair and made him look into his eyes. Anger and lust all Jimmy could see. 

“Come on, or was learning things in America a lie?”

Jimmy growled his own anger and frustration surged through him and, he met the brutal kiss with one of his own. And then he was thrusting inside of Thomas and let out a long gasp, eyes closing and body tensing and his head bent down as he almost collapsed on top of him. “Shit.”

“Fuck… Jimmy…” Thomas' voice was broken, but in the next second he moved his hips up, and Jimmy started fucking him. Harsh breaths, the slap of skin and surging kisses that went from angry passion to another desperate emotion that Jimmy knew Thomas didn’t want in the room because he kept pulling away — only to grab onto him again. Jimmy groaned as it was over far too fast and far too soon. He ended up on his back next to Thomas on the bed, the two of them still breathing harshly and staring at the ceiling. 

“Did you get a room, at the Grantham Arms?” Thomas asked, and his voice was hoarse and sounded small because he wasn’t shouting. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy breathed, and he waited. He hoped. 

“Leave…” 

Jimmy sighed and rolled off of the bed. He started finding his clothes, but he felt eyes on him. He turned toward the bed and swallowed over a lump the sight of Thomas naked on the bed, hair in his eyes and leaning on his elbows. His stare was naked and raw. Vulnerable. He looked away and yanked at his blankets covering himself. 

Jimmy went about getting dressed, trying to figure out what to say or what to do but he couldn’t force Thomas. As much as he wished to and he let out another sigh as he closed the last button of his shirt. He was dressed. It was time to leave. He dared to look at the bed, and Thomas was watching him his expression dark. 

“Don’t…” Thomas’s voice broke. “Don’t leave Downton.” 

“I didn't intend to.”


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas woke up and finally the room was gray. He rubbed at his eyes and told himself it didn’t matter if he had gotten any sleep or not. He was the Butler, and this was just like any other day. Only his bedclothes were tangled mess because he never fixed them after Jimmy left. Jimmy. Less than two minutes, maybe less than a minute. Thomas wished he could ascertain seconds, at least a higher number might make it feel longer. He breathed out through his nose and got out of the bed. He turned and wrenched the bedclothes off the bed. All of them and onto the floor. When he returned, there would be fresh linens and wasn’t that a lovely thought… 

He ached as he turned, images of being underneath Jimmy and at his mercy. He laughed and pushed his hands into his hair as he tried to think clearly. He realized he could feel Jimmy’s mark on him, physically, inside of him and the ghost of his touch was everywhere. It wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. He wasn’t sure what he wished it to be — because reality was usually somewhere in between. It was never a dream but somedays maybe it wouldn’t be a nightmare. 

“Just any other day,” he muttered to himself as he set about his morning ablutions. He kept it in his mind, a mantra and when Jimmy flitted in, he knocked him away. But he was buzzing fly of thought, but Thomas was stubborn, and he wasn’t dealing with it. It was to be dealt with later, much later because he had a long day ahead of him. 

He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. His face staring back at him, too pale and with a bit of bruising under his eyes. It was the image he saw every day and every day he felt quite satisfied. He was handsome after all if not golden like… 

“No,” he said in place of the name. 

He wasn’t harsh on his own eyes, and he was vain enough for that and self-aware enough to admit to it. He looked. Normal. He stared at himself in the mirror and started shaking his head at himself. What a ridiculous thought, he told himself. You aren’t supposed to be thinking about that anyway, but he felt a rush as a memory of Jimmy staring into eyes refused to be pushed aside. He opened his eyes again, surrendering to the memory, maybe now it would show. But it didn’t, and Thomas felt disappointed. He felt like a fool and a silly creature. But really, he had been fucked by Jimmy Kent. Shouldn’t it show? 

“Stop it, Barrow,” he told himself and nodded to himself in the mirror. He turned on his heel and headed down the stairs. Back straight, chin up and shoving any and all thoughts about Jimmy away. Fifteen thoughts or more as he reached the bottom step to the kitchen. Not that he counted, or even thought them, no they’d been shoved aside and gone. 

He started heading to his office first, to look at the diary as he gone to bed abruptly the night before and not finished his tasks yesterday. The thought sent a wave of irritation. He would have to fix it all now and it would throw off his entire day. At least not being able to sleep gotten him up early and he wouldn’t have a late start. He froze though when a door opened as he passed by it. It creaked on its hinges, and soft footfalls followed it. 

“Mr. Barrow, in my sitting room please,” Mrs. Hughes voice was clipped and low. And not very pleasant at all. 

Horror kept him facing away from her. Horror hit him at full blast as it all came slamming back to him. He’d kissed Jimmy, aggressively and desperately right in front of her. Not only her but Miss Baxter, Anna, Andy, and Daisy. He prayed and laughed because he didn’t believe in God. The odd laugh still on his lips he finally turned around, and the disapproving stare leveled at him nearly made him fall. 

No. No. He couldn’t bear to see it, not after earning her trust. He knew this expression on Mrs. Hughes’ face. It was the one given him every day of his life at Downton with differing levels of disappointing and exasperating showing in her eyes. Now, though, now when Mrs. Hughes looked at him there was respect but more importantly affection. He couldn’t lose it, and anger slammed into his chest. It was Jimmy’s fault for standing there with concern in his eyes and almost saying the words Thomas feared hearing. 

“Now,” Mrs. Hughes said and stepped back into her sitting room herself. 

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes,” he said and followed her into the room.

“Sit,” she ordered and sat down herself. “I made us tea.” 

He sat down and found he wasn’t much in the mood for tea. 

“Mr. Barrow….” 

“I apologize. It was wrong and offensive and…”

“Oh, do shut up,” she snapped.

Thomas heard his jaw click as he closed it. 

“Perhaps it was those things,” she sighed and leveled him with the disappointed stare. “It was illicit, uncomfortable and was unsuitable behavior for a Butler — and I feel that is understating it. Quite a bit.” 

“I…”

“Tsk…” she shook her head at him and raised a hand. “You will stop interrupting me, this hard enough topic to discuss as it is, Thomas.” 

He swallowed a gulp of relieved air as she said his name, the sternness in her expression was fading but the disappointment still stabbed his heart. 

Mrs. Hughes took in and let out a deep breathe. “I knew. I knew the day you were named Butler you would keep me on my toes… I had yet to find out fully how much you’d grown into a man in the past year and I have found most of my concerns were unfounded. Yet, you are…. Well, a hard man at times, unrelenting, prideful and stubborn.”

Thomas twitched a bit as her voice turned fond.

“All quite common in men I find I care for….” Mrs. Hughes sighed. “And I do care about you, Thomas.” 

“Thank you,” he breathed out gratefulness slamming him and spilling out. But the disappointment was still in her eyes, and it crushed him. 

“Oh…” she let out a breath, and her expression softened. “Let me get through this, for goodness sake.”

He nodded. 

“This is a difficult subject, and I am sure you agree?”

“Yes,” he risked answering. 

“Yes…” she shook her head. “What was it you thought — no, never mind I probably do not wish to know. What happens between you and Mr. Kent is your own business, Thomas.”

He ignored the flip low in his belly and nodded another agreement. It was private. It was no one else’s concern. It probably didn’t even exist. There was no Thomas and Jimmy. Last night — he bit the inside of his cheek and felt his cheeks flame with sudden heat as memories assaulted him. He shoved them away and focused on Mrs. Hughes.

“You are the Butler of this house, and you cannot be… cavorting publicly with anyone in such a manner, let alone another man. Now, I have instructed — though I doubt I needed too — everyone to remain silent on what they witnessed. And I’m instructing you to do the same, though I can’t think why you wouldn’t… But then, Thomas I never would have thought such a display…”

His cheeks continued to flame. In horror of what he did and because of the memory of the kiss. He nodded.

Mrs. Hughes gave a slight nod back and picked up her teacup. “You can apologize now,” she with a quirk of her mouth. 

“May I,” he asked with relieved laughter, though he felt mortified, sweaty and his head was pounding. He stared at her face, and the disappointment seemed to have faded, and he wondered how. He hadn’t done anything to earn anything else. “I do apologize for it, Mr. Hughes and I’ll apologize to the others as well.” 

She nodded.

“I should get to my office, I have…”

“Before you go,” she said.

He leaned back into the chair, and his nerves felt frayed. She was avoiding looking directly at him suddenly which was confusing to him given the subject of their conversation. It was amazing she could look at him at all. 

“Where is he?”

Thomas wanted to play dumb. He wanted to lie. He wanted to get up and walk away. “The Grantham Arms.” 

“How long does he plan to stay.”

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “He could be gone…” his heart hammered in both fear of it and the wish of it. 

“Oh. I doubt that…” Mrs. Hughes muttered. “Do you plan to see him?”

There it was. That was it. That was the thing, wasn’t it? Was he going to see Jimmy? 

“Thomas?”

“Yes,” he said at her prompting. To her. To himself. He let himself admit it, and now he was going to bury it. All day, shove the buzzing thought of him away. All day he would pretend he wasn’t remembering being fucked by him, touched by him and kissed by him. He wasn’t going to think about it all day —pointedly. 

“Do be careful, Thomas,” Mrs. Hughes said. 

“Oh, I plan too,” he said.

“Go, go… you’ll be far behind enough today without me keeping you longer.” 

He hurried to the door but paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Thank you…” he told her again and then flew out of the room. 

~~~

Daisy turned beet red when he walked into the kitchen and nearly dropped the pot of green beans she was holding. He attempted to give her an apologetic smile, but he wasn’t quite as good at those as he was at snide. She gave him a jerky nod but seemed to brace herself and go on about her duties. Mrs. Patmore was shouting and Thomas knew if he was to talk to her, he needed to get her away from the cook. He breathed a sigh of relief Mrs. Patmore hadn’t witnessed anything. 

The truth was he trusted Daisy to keep quiet and Anna. He knew he could trust Phyllis after all the things he put her through and she still stood by him in the end and when he needed a friend. Mrs. Hughes wouldn’t allow him to disgrace the family or herself. Andy was his friend, a good friend and he had no doubts about him, he realized and what a strange thought. He shook his head and watched Daisy for a moment before turning to Mrs. Patmore to discuss dinner service. 

He was quite enjoying the tedious details of his day. He liked them a fair more than he would ever admit to anyone, but today they all felt magical. There was no time to ponder, and there was no way to daydream. He had things to do, and he loved his job more than he thought possible — and he was beyond grateful for it to the point he would never take it for granted. But today he loved it because it was keeping his hands and his mind busy. 

And he only had to shove thoughts of Jimmy away every third minute. Or second. Maybe it was every third second. But he wasn’t dwelling on him, he was merely shoving whatever thought or vivid memory it was to the side to be dealt with later. Jimmy had a pin in him, and it was going to stay that way until the last _I_ of his day was dotted. 

“Thomas,” Miss Baxter voice was soft and a bit too meek for his taste. He looked up from the paperwork on his desk and looked at her. The expression on her face told him all he needed to know. He shook his head.

She stepped into the room anyway and closed the door behind her. Her body language spoke of being sorry, as well as her face but her eyes were a different story. She was simply fighting her hatred of confrontation but she would because she was a brave person. One of the bravest he knew. 

“Please don’t?” he asked but he knew she wouldn’t listen and something inside of him felt happy about it. 

“I don’t think you should go see him.” 

It shocked him. His heart sped up, and he stared at her in confusion. Thomas had expected her to be worried about his actions in the hallway. He expected a bit of lecture about not doing things publicly. He expected an echo of his conversation with Mrs. Hughes and nothing more. “I..what?”

“I don’t think you should see him, Thomas.”

“Why?”

“Well…” she sat down in the chair across from him and leaned forward. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

The wound in his soul made by Jimmy Kent shuddered in agreement. “You think he will?”

“I don’t know him. We rarely spoke when we both worked here. But I do know you hurt yourself after he left. You hurt yourself, and I thought — well until your… episode… I had thought you were okay once you were physically well. And it was a mistake, and I will not take your health for granted or lightly.” 

His jaw clenched, and he felt a pang of pain at the injection site. It happened now and again, and he was never sure if it was a real or psychic pain. He nodded and felt a well of gratitude for her he wasn’t able to measure. He would always be on Miss Baxter’s side, and he reveled in telling Molesley just that. 

“What I recall of Jimmy was he could be quite thoughtless and played with people’s hearts.” 

“I play with people.”

“Not of late, you’ve grown.” She smiled at him, and it struck him that it was proud. “I think you shouldn’t play with matches, Thomas.”

“I see. I’ll… take it into consideration, Miss Baxter,” he said and winced at how impersonal he sounded. But he was fighting not to feel anything, not let himself think about Jimmy for more than a split-second. As impossible as it seemed. “I’m…. Thankful,” he put as much into the word as he could, the word was inadequate. “I am… Phyllis. But…”

“But?”

“He kissed me.” 

Miss Baxter blushed and looked over Thomas’ head for a moment. “I remember.” 

“You don’t understand.”

She leveled him with her kind brown eyes. 

“I didn’t think he would. Not with all of you watching. It’s one thing in a club — surrounded by others of our…. My sort. It’s quite different than being in the open and caught. It’s not the danger of prison, I’m speaking about… It’s… I didn’t think he could handle anyone thinking he’s… like me. I kissed him to make him run, to make him leave, to save myself from him.” 

“Seems an odd choice,” Miss Baxter said her confusion evident in the furrow between her eyes. 

“It was… a mad choice,” he laughed. I was desperate to get him to leave.”

“You meant to scare him into it?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t run.”

Thomas nodded, and his heart threatened to pound out of his chest, and he wanted to push it in and tell it to calm down. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t get his hopes up. “I have to see him.” 

“I don’t like it but I… I know better than to try to stop you.” She stood up and walked to the door. She turned back as she opened it. “I’m always here for you.”

“I…appreciate it, Miss Baxter.”

The door clicked, and he picked his pen back up. He dealt with the pile of paperwork, including things from the night before. His mind wandered to Jimmy more and more. His admissions to Baxter opening the little doors erected throughout the day. Jimmy’s mouth against his scar, seeing him at the piano at the club, kissing him in the hallway, running down the street in London, his legs wrapped around Jimmy in his bed. 

He sighed and dropped the pen having written his name on the last piece of paper on his desk. He looked at the clock, and it was late but not too late. He knew Jimmy was waiting for him. He wasn’t even frightened he might have left for London. He wasn’t wondering if maybe he got bored waiting. He wasn’t thinking that maybe Jimmy regretted last night. He wasn’t afraid of any of it. He was confident Jimmy was at the Grantham Arms waiting for him. 

Thomas was afraid.


	4. Chapter 4

Jimmy watched as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. It would be late when Thomas arrived. If he arrived. Jimmy scowled at his fear. It was making him jumpy, but there was nothing to do with the energy. He tried playing the piano that was downstairs in the restaurant, but anything he played sounded wrong. And he couldn’t play what fit his mood in public — it’d probably bore the patrons — and he was against boredom as a rule. 

Jimmy sighed and sat down at the desk by the window. He looked down at the pad of paper that he found in its drawers. The paper was full of words, scribbled in his hand and none of them offered any calm. Bit and pieces of explanations. Excuses and lies that ran through his head to make himself feel better about his lack of action when it came to telling Thomas the truth. It was stories he told himself to keep the guilt from crushing him. 

He should have written Thomas the moment he left Downton. That night, that next day, a few days later, the next month. But the excuses started right away and grew and grew. He hadn’t written at all despite the urges too, despite knowing he loved him, and he thought when he returned to London that would be the last excuse. Because it was time. It was time to reach out to Thomas and tell him every single story of his journey that made him into the man he was now. 

He laughed. He faced himself, countless times since he left Thomas. He learned more and more about himself. He was a show-off, that was simply a piece of the whole of him. But he used to show off to puff up his chest, to make himself feel important. If people were watching that meant you were something. His confidence was a mask and Thomas always seen right through it. It’d scared Jimmy when they were strangers and terrified him when they were friends. What else had Thomas seen through? Was in he love with him because he saw Jimmy could love him back? 

He remembered that fear and all the stupid things it made him do — dating girls from the village. Every single time he flirted with Ivy and pretended it was to annoy Alfred. The decision to truly flirt with Ivy and take her out on dates. Anstruther. He kept doing stupid things not because he was lustful for women but because every time Thomas looked right at him and called him out on his other bullshit, Jimmy was positive Thomas would get closer and closer to his biggest secret. And his stupidity gotten him fired from Downton. 

So he ran. He ran all the way to America. Jimmy sighed as he realized all the stories he needed to tell Thomas. People, places, and music. Dreams that woke him sweat-soaked in the middle of the night. It was a journey and one he wanted to tell. He was a better man… 

Or was he? He still lied to himself. He still told himself things to make him feel better while he put off the most important action of his life. A twist of fate reunited them, but that wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. That wasn’t the plan at all. Jimmy was supposed to write him, finally, write him. It was a concrete thought — but he kept putting it off anyway. He should have written Thomas weeks ago and told him he’d been in America, told him he been through a lot of things and learned something important about himself. The plan was that he would create the setting for their reunion and tell Thomas the truth.

Jimmy scrunched the paper up into a ball and threw it into the waste bin. He didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t even know how to apologize. He had no plan at all because this was happening all wrong. But then maybe that was them — after all things between them always seemed to start wrong-footed. 

It was his fault. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. He was going to write, he truly was — but things happening as they had him doubting it. The proof of his ability to lie to himself was stunning. But no more lies, he promised himself that — no more lies. The minute he caught himself in one he was meant to face and exorcise it. He wouldn’t give Thomas lies or excuses. He couldn’t if he wanted Thomas forgiveness. 

But what did that leave with him? What did he say? Do? 

He thought he made himself braver over the years. But his heart was pounding, his mind was spinning, and he felt like maybe he hadn’t grown half much as he thought. He was terrified in a way he hadn’t felt in years., it had his heart pounding against his chest. It was Thomas, he made Jimmy feel things twice as much as anyone else — he learned that last night. Being with him, touching him and kissing him, fucking him. He felt drunk off him. Fuzzy and loose-limbed and intensely focused. He loved him, he loved Thomas, and he knew it. He’d figured it out a long time ago, longer than he dared admit, but he felt it with every kiss and touch. Even with Thomas glaring at him with gray eyes dark with pain…there was love. The love was there, and it was too much… 

Remembering it was overwhelming him but he felt boosted, the fear hadn’t waned but the love. It was mutual, and maybe they could find their way through all the pain — every bit of the pain that Jimmy caused. Maybe. Just maybe he would get lucky, but even if he didn’t, he knew he had to try. 

And it terrified him. He thought he made himself braver and less of a coward, but it was clear he still had a lot to learn about being brave. Leave it to Thomas to show him up and challenge him. To make him prove that he changed. Because Thomas was everything and while things weren’t going according to his plan — they were happening. Jimmy would fight for him. It was the only choice to make. 

A knock filled the air and Jimmy felt a bit dazed. Hope and worried collided. It was him, but maybe it wasn’t — it might not be him. Jimmy hurried to the door and pulled it open. Thomas stood there, hat in his hands and looking down the hall. “You came,” Jimmy breathed out.

Gray eyes pinned him and a lump formed in his throat. “Of course, I came,” Thomas said and it sounded like he wished wasn’t inevitable. 

“I’m…” Jimmy swallowed the apology because it wouldn’t be the right thing to say and it wouldn’t even be true. “Thank you,” he said instead and wondered if Thomas realized the truth of the gratitude. He stepped backward and ushered Thomas in with his hands. 

He stepped into the room and put his hat and coat on the rack by the door. His movements graceful and slow, but Jimmy thought it couldn’t be as measured as they felt. His heart was pounding, and the room felt too quiet. Thomas turned and faced him. His expression was pinched and his cheeks drawn inward. He reached into his pants pockets and pulled out his cigarettes. It was an ordinary and beautiful sight to Jimmy. Memories upon memories of Thomas lighting a cigarette were all he had for so long — he watched greedily. Thomas' graceful fingers, the glove couldn’t hide that, and his practiced movements were almost a dance. Jimmy watched the cigarette roll between Thomas' fingers and rise to his mouth. 

They’d kissed. His mind held memories of kisses now, and it hadn’t been the first kiss he dreamed about for years. He might not be happy that they were angry and desperate, but he wouldn’t regret it. Touching Thomas with his mouth and his hands. No, he wasn’t regretting that at all and his flushed a deep red as he remembered his where his hand and his dick had been. 

Their gazes locked and Thomas’ cheeks were scarlet and his stare intense. They were both remembering, and Jimmy hoped Thomas had no regrets because it hadn’t been perfect, but it’d been them. All he wanted but Thomas didn’t know that… 

“Thomas,” he walked across the room and closed the space between them. He wanted to speak, but his mind was still coming up blank. Where did he begin, where did he start? How did he explain what to Thomas once seemed impossible. 

“Don’t,” Thomas said sharply, and he looked away. 

“I wasn’t…” he muttered because he hadn’t had a thing to say. 

“Sounds about right… not doing anything,” Thomas snapped.

“We’re together,” Jimmy said. “Which is what I wanted, but it happened the wrong way — you weren’t supposed to find me some random night. I was going to write and ask to see you.”

Thomas laughed. 

“I don’t… it’s reasonable you don’t believe me.”

“You had years to write, Jimmy. Years.” 

“I know.”

“And…” Thomas sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t. It was over once you left, our friendship.”

“No,” Jimmy shouted. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t at all.”

Thomas started at him and shook his head. “It’s hard to believe.”

“I’m here aren’t I? Saying it?”

Thomas blew smoke into his face and then turned away from him. He walked to the window and looked outside. Jimmy rushed after him. He wanted them close. Wanted to be close enough to touch him and he hurried to stand next to him. “I… don’t understand.”

“I want to explain,” Jimmy said. 

“How do you do that?” 

Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t know… what do you want to hear?”

“The right things. Say the right things, Jimmy,” Thomas said, his voice trembling. 

Jimmy’s heart threatened to leave his chest from the fear and pressure of it all, and he stared at Thomas and wished for a bit more help. But he owed Thomas the right things, the right words — even if he didn’t know them, he had to try to find them. “I love you.” 

“What?” Thomas barked his expression startled and then dark. He took a step away from Jimmy. 

Jimmy followed him and nodded. “I do. I love you…” he swallowed. “I think… no, that I can tell you later — if there is one striking moment when I knew. It was six months ago.”

Thomas stared at him with intense confusion. 

“I was… there was this man, who he is doesn't matter much but… He told me he loved me.” 

“I don’t want to …” Thomas turned to move away.

“Listen,” Jimmy shouted and grabbed his arm. “Please?”

Their eyes met, and Jimmy felt his throat go dry, there was too much worry and pain behind his cool gray eyes. “He loved me, and he told me — I think he expected me to say it back but my only thought was… I love Thomas. It was, it was a matter of fact, my mind, my heart, body — whatever. It was just telling me the truth, I love you, my eyes are blue. And I know it wasn’t the first or last time I thought it but it was the first time I knew what it meant.” 

“Jimmy,” Thomas’ argued and shook his head. “But…”

“I missed you every day. Every day,” Jimmy sighed. “I’m a fool, and I know that — I loved you and never…” 

“Stop,” Thomas shook his head. 

“I don’t know what the right things to say are, Thomas…” 

“Shut up,” Thomas grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “You’re saying the… just don’t… stop.” 

Jimmy let him shake him, anything to have him touching him, his heart was hammering and the fear of not knowing if Thomas would give him a chance to make up for his myriad of mistakes or not proved to him he never known fear before. He wouldn’t know what to do if permission wasn’t granted, if he wasn’t allowed back into Thomas life after all this time. 

“Jimmy….” Thomas breathed and stared at him. “You left me,” his voice was small, and tears slid down his cheeks. 

Jimmy nodded because he would accept that charge because he had run. 

“And I…” Thomas let out a broken laugh. “I thought I should….” He let go of Jimmy and stepped away from him, turning his back on Jimmy. “I can’t do this again.” 

“Thomas?” Jimmy moved closer but stayed behind him and fought the urge to put his hand on his shoulder. “I won’t leave again.” 

Thomas laughed, and Jimmy supposed it did sound like a joke. “It might sound like empty sound, but I mean it.” 

“You don’t know what I did…” Thomas’ voice was low and harsh, and his left hand was pulling down his right-hand sleeve. 

Jimmy thought about the scar he’d felt under his fingers and his eyes closed against the onslaught of fear and emotion. “I…” he reached out and grabbed his left wrist, thumb against the pinker skin. 

“It’s not that…that came later….” Thomas whispered. 

“Tell me,” Jimmy asked. 

“No.” 

A bit of relief was washed away by the wave of disappointment that rushed through Jimmy. But what did he expect? He tugged on Thomas’ wrist though because Thomas wasn’t yanking himself from his hold. He tugged him and Thomas turned around. They pressed into the other’s space, and Jimmy pushed away the fabric hiding the scar. He pulled the glove free and ran a thumb over the bullet wound and then his thumb down the pink scar on his wrist. It hurt to look at it, and it wasn’t the only horror story Thomas had to tell…. 

“I’m…” Jimmy muttered and swallowed the apology. It wasn’t what Thomas wanted to hear. 

“I know…” Thomas whispered. 

He looked up and met intense gray eyes, two storms that were looking right at him and right into him. Thomas' eyes narrowed he sucked in his cheeks and Jimmy was quite sure was trying to breathe out anger. Thomas breath hit his cheek, they were so close and it made him shiver. 

“Jimmy?”

“Yes?”

“How long….” He shook his head as he trailed off. 

“Longer than six months ago… I’ve loved you far longer than that,” Jimmy answered before Thomas could take the question away. 

Thomas inhaled sharply. 

“Is that…”

“What I want to hear?”

Jimmy nodded. 

“I don’t know…” Thomas sighed as he rose his hands to Jimmy’s face. Jimmy inhaled sharply at the touch, they were cool against his cheeks, but Thomas' lips were warm as they pressed against his. 

Jimmy leaned up, greedily, into the kiss. A small voice telling him they needed to talk, to really talk and they hadn’t gotten anywhere, but it was swept away by Thomas’ tongue. He caved into the touching because he yearned for it so long — since before he left if he was honest. He tried not to think about how he could have had this years sooner — because maybe if he caved into it too soon, it would’ve exploded. 

It might explode now. 

But they might have a chance. 

“I meant yet…” Thomas whispered as he kissed Jimmy’s jaw.

“What?” Jimmy asked distracted and wanting more, his hands pushed at the jacket of Thomas’ suit and underneath it, yanking on fabric in search of skin. 

“I’ll tell you what happened… just not yet.”

“I’ll wait,” Jimmy muttered as his hands found skin and he slid his palm up Thomas’ spine. 

Thomas froze which made Jimmy follow suit. Jimmy stopped breathing, until Thomas' forehead his forehead. He looked up into intense eyes, vulnerable and unsure. They stared into Jimmy's eyes, and he wondered if Thomas could hear his heartbeat.

“You will?”

Jimmy nodded and was about to speak it, so there was no misunderstanding, but Thomas’ mouth stopped the words, so he kissed it into his mouth and hoped he got the message. Jimmy started shoving, Thomas backward, angling them toward the armchair that was near the desk. He grinned against Thomas’ neck when he heard air leave Thomas’ lungs as he fell with a thumb into the seat and he crawled on top of him. 

He leaned back long enough to shed a few layers of clothing, his eyes watching Thomas as he did the same thing. Then they lunged — the both them back together, mouths open and tongues searching. Jimmy moved their hips and sighed as he felt Thomas hard and trapped between them. He sighed as he moved to give himself some needed friction. Thomas hands’ tightened against his hip and in his hair. 

Then they shoved him hard, and Jimmy fell from his lap, off the chair and somehow managed to find his feet. He stood and stared down at Thomas who was glaring up at him, but it lacked the heat of the night before. He stood up though and looked away from Jimmy. 

“We… I can’t.” He started grabbing his clothes.

Jimmy felt stupid because of course not, last night been — that night been years of pent-up tension and desperation. Things that still burned in Jimmy’s bloodstream and he fought back the urge to grab Thomas hand or touch his shoulder. Instead, he watched Thomas put layer after layer back on — including his coat and hat. Thomas sighed and looked at him once his coat was situated, and Jimmy wasn’t sure what it was he saw in his eyes — but at least it wasn’t hatred. 

“How long… Are you staying.”

“Forever,” Jimmy answered. 

Thomas blinked at him and stepped closer. His palm hit Jimmy’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch, not taking his eyes off of Thomas’s gaze. “I meant, in Downton.” 

“Oh….” He sighed. “As long as I please.”

“Jimmy, you have…”

“The position of being the guy who brings in the crowds… He’ll wait for me. I just won’t get paid the days I miss.” 

“Of course…. The big draw like with Stanley,” Thomas’ voice was dark.

“Who?”

Thomas' mouth twitched up into a smile, and he dropped his hand. “You have a life in London.”

“I came back to England for you.”

“Jimmy don’t…”

“It’s not a lie… we didn’t reunite how I’d liked… but I meant for it to happen.”

“Come for lunch tomorrow…” Thomas said. 

“Of course,” Jimmy nodded, and he thought he’d never been asked a more important thing. 

Thomas nodded, and he stepped closer making Jimmy inhale a surprised breath. He’d expected Thomas to turn and leave, but instead, he was so close their chests were touching. He felt Thomas’ breathe on his cheek and then his lips. Jimmy's eyes fell closed, and when they opened, he was standing alone in his room.


	5. Chapter 5

Andy was blushing, and it was making him edgy. His discomfort was sign Thomas wasn’t going to enjoy the conversation Andy wished to have. Not that Andy was speaking, no he just sat in the chair on the other side of Thomas’ desk with bright red cheeks while fidgeting in place. Thomas looked over his head that the door behind him and wished for it to open. Let someone interrupt this before it began then he could hope Andy might not work up the courage to attempt it again…

Or Thomas could discourage him now and save himself, rather than hope for outside help. A plan sprung to mind, fully formed and Thomas stopped avoiding Andy’s eye and met his gaze. He stared right at Andy, stared right at him fidgeting in the chair and took in his flushed face. It was a pretty shade of pink, and he smirked a bit as he stared. He remained silent, held his gaze and waited. Neither of them wanted to have this conversation, but Thomas was throwing it completely into Andy’s hands.

“Um…” Andy managed and he lifted up in his seat, hands pushing against the sides of the chair. Thomas hoped it meant he was standing to leave, but he fell back into the chair, though his eyes darted to the other door in the room, the one to the right of Thomas’ desk. 

Thomas watched Andy’s eyes dart there and back. He feared his plan wasn’t working and fought the urge to light a cigarette. He didn’t dare stop his stare, no he had to remain stoic and pointedly wait for Andy to leave.

“Mr. Barrow… the other night….well, er… um…” Andy stuttered.

Thomas sighed.

“I’m not… all that comfortable…” Andy muttered as his face turned a deeper shade of pink. 

“Neither am I,” Thomas snapped at him, hoping anger might be a deterrent.

Andy flinched, and Thomas felt vindicated and quickly shoved away the bit of guilt that surfaced beside it. He shook his head and opened his mouth, knowing he had to at least attempt an apology. 

“It’s just that…” Andy spoke before he could. 

“No, Andy…” Thomas interrupted him. “Neither of us wish to… what you witnessed was not something you should’ve…. Witnessed,” Thomas winced at his stammering.

Andy fidgeted, and his face grew from pink to red, but he held Thomas’ gaze and spoke over him again and quite quickly. “I feel I shouldn’t have allowed Mr. Kent to follow you upstairs.” 

Thomas blinked not quite sure he heard him correctly. “What?” 

“I shouldn’t have allowed Mr. Kent…”

“You needn’t worry about Jimmy,” Thomas snapped. 

“But shouldn’t I?” Andy stammered. 

“No.” 

“I wasn’t a friend to you when all you’ve been to me is kind…” Andy spoke quickly as if he was afraid if he didn’t hurry it wouldn’t come to pass. “I was quite… And you… I never thought to see such a horror…” 

Fury rose up in Thomas’ chest, formed by embarrassment, pride and a bit of confusion and a lot of fear. His blood rushed to his face, and he was quite sure he was turning the same shade of red Andy’d acquired. “Don’t,” he ordered sharply. 

“Mr. Barrow it is just that was I was not the friend you deserved, and I feel I must try to be it — that — now.” 

“We are not friends,” Thomas snapped. “I am the Butler, and you are my footman.” 

Andy turned white and seemed to slide as far back as he could in the chair like he was trying to slide away from Thomas. “Mr. Barrow…I…”

“I do not wish to ever to speak of that… ever.” Thomas gritted through his teeth, his anger falling as quickly as it rose up — but that didn’t make it untrue. But it wasn’t Andy’s fault, and it was all his own fault. He swallowed over the lump that was in his throat, that formed whenever he thought about what Andy and Miss Baxter may have found in that bathroom. He was embarrassed more than anything even if he was thankful. 

“Of course, Mr. Barrow… I was out of turn.” Andy muttered and was no longer looking him in the eye. 

“I…” Thomas stammered and quickly scrambled to light a cigarette. “Andy, I am grateful, and you have proved a… friend is the word, I suppose. However. It is never to be spoken of again.” 

Andy nodded.

“As for Mr. Kent… He was not a factor in that day.” 

Andy's eyes snapped back onto Thomas face, disbelief in his features. “I… Miss Baxter….”

“Whatever it is you heard from Miss Baxter, Jimmy… Mr. Kent that is, he was not… It had naught to do with him,” he said, and the words felt difficult to say but that didn’t mean they weren’t true. He hadn’t been thinking about Jimmy — and that was the point right now. 

“I understand,” Andy said, but it was clear he didn’t, but Thomas wasn’t about to continue the conversation. Not when he could end it. 

“You mean well, I appreciate it but you needn’t worry about Mr. Kent, and you followed my wishes the other night. Which is all I can ask of you and hope you will continue to do.” 

“Yes, yes… Mr. Barrow.” 

“Good. Now if all of that is settled, you are dismissed.” 

Andy stood up quickly, nodding his head he turned around and was at the door in seconds, but he paused — and Thomas sucked on his recently lit cigarette to stop himself from shouting _out_ at the boy. Andy turned around and looked at him with big and kind eyes — Thomas wanted to claw them out, but he knew he’d feel guilty for acting on the urge. So, he stayed quiet, and went back to staring down Andy. 

“Just… we are all here, Mr. Barrow,” Andy muttered before leaving the room. 

Thomas sucked on his cigarette. Confusion, fear, and embarrassment making him feel angry again. He hated it, and he hated that he was seen like that… bleeding out. He lived. He learned. He was…. He was fine. 

But as he his eyes fell closed he felt the ghost of not only Jimmy’s fingers but his lips on the scar left on his right wrist and shuddered. His eyes stung and tried to inhale with a suddenly stuffed nose. He sniffled and swore and told himself he would tell Jimmy the same damn thing he told Andy. 

Subject closed. 

~~~

Jimmy was halfway to Downton when he spotted Miss Baxter walking toward him. She spotted him just as he saw her, and he knew from the expression on her face that he was why she was on the path from Downton toward the village. He clenched his jaw and felt instant wariness. He remembered the unfriendly look in her eyes and how she seemed not to want Thomas to speak with him. He was curious and fearful about why that might be, why would she not want him near Thomas? 

“Mr. Kent,” she said politely as the came to a mutual stop in front of each other. 

“Jimmy, please,” he laughed. 

“Jimmy…” she said quite seriously. “I was coming to find you.”

“Thomas invited me to the Abbey…” 

“I see,” she cut him off. 

Jimmy nodded. 

“Where, where have you been, Jimmy?”

“America, mostly,” he said.

“You never wrote him,” she bit out the accusation in her voice sharp. 

“I didn’t, no…” he muttered his guilt pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Why?” she asked. 

Jimmy shook his head. “Not really your business.”

“Thomas is my business,” she snapped.

“Since when? When I left here, you couldn’t stand the sight of him.” 

“A lot has changed.”

Jimmy laughed at the truth in her words. A lot had changed, quite a lot and he hoped. He hoped his changes were for the better. It was the only way he was coming out of this visit with Thomas and not without him. 

“You find it funny?” she asked looking angry. 

“It is a bit…” he shrugged. 

“I knew him when he was a child, a boy… When I first came to Downton the change in him scared me, startled me.”  
Jimmy stared at her blankly.

“He was a good boy, smart, clever — a bit too clever. But he was different and his father — Was kind to me, kind to most but he wasn’t to Thomas. I forgot that though — it’s funny what we'll forget,” she shook her head. “Thomas was hard and cold when I first got to Downton but…” she paused and looked at Jimmy. “That hard shell it cracked the moment you left.” 

Thomas told him, of course, that he'd known Baxter when they were children. How she was his older sister’s friend, and how she’d been in his home as often as her own. How she was nice and how that niceness gotten her used by a thief. Thomas told Jimmy why he had brought her into the house, someone he could control, someone who could tell him the things no one else in the house would — Thomas wanted to know everything, anything, just in case maybe he could use some nugget of information to his advantage. Miss Baxter hadn’t been playing the game though and Thomas was annoyed with her, angry and a bit bitter about how she wasn't all that grateful to him when it came to her job. 

“Cracked?” he asked. “Does this explain how you two went from enemies to friends?”

“I was never his enemy,” Miss Baxter sighed. “Even if he acted like it… But you were his friend, weren’t you, Mr. Kent? Anna seems sure of it, but I never was… you never wrote to him.” 

His guilt was real, but he didn’t like her poking at it. He didn’t know her, they’d rarely spoken — she was Thomas’ problem back when he was at Downton, and Jimmy stayed cleared of Thomas’ plans unless he was a part of them. “We were,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“He spoke about you to me once….” She shook her head. “It was just once after he came to me for help.”

“Help?” Jimmy echoed confused. 

She eyed him up and down. “I didn’t understand, not at first. What he was doing and certainly not why he did it. But he hurt himself, quite badly…”

The scars he knew were on Thomas’ wrists appeared in Jimmy’s mind and the fear he might have lost him and never known it waved through him, and he staggered a bit - despite standing still. “I know that he tried…”

“I’m not talking about the attempt he made on his ….” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “I’m not speaking about that.” 

“Then what….”

“I’m speaking of something else, something else he did and went through — and he told me it was losing you that made him. Well, he didn’t say it in so many words, but he mentioned your name, he mentioned you, and that he thought he had to try to be the same, the same as other men, you see…”

Jimmy shook his head. She was babbling it felt like he wasn’t understanding a word out of her mouth. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s going to be angry with me,” she laughed. “He’ll be so angry but…”

“What are you going on about?” Jimmy snapped. 

“After you left, he tried to change himself, you see. He tried to make himself like other men, he wanted to stop being…. Different.” 

“Different?” 

“The man Thomas is…. His proclivities.” 

Jimmy nodded but he was fighting the thoughts occurring to him, her meaning was slowly starting to set in and he wasn’t sure he wanted to comprehend it.

“He wanted to stop being unlike most men.”

“No,” Jimmy shook his head. “No. No, that’s impossible. He told me…”

“I don’t know what it was he told you, Mr. Kent…Jimmy. I don’t know what he told you, but he tried to make himself like most men, and he nearly died for it.” 

“What?”

“And he told me, once he was better… he told me that when you left he felt alone in a way that ate at him and he thought, he thought his only hope of filling that hole was to stop being the sort of man he was…” 

“No,” Jimmy repeated.

“Yes,” Miss Baxter whispered her voice laced with sadness. 

“No,” he whispered back. “No…”

“He missed you, you see… He missed you and had left him. You left him.” 

He felt the accusation like a shove to the chest. 

“He’s… In the days since he survived that and the other… He’s survived quite a lot, Jimmy. Without you. But I fear… If you are only here to toy with him, to give him false hope.”

“What?” Jimmy’s head was spinning, and he was trying to process. It was impossible. He knew Thomas, he knew Thomas… Thomas was better than most men, and he knew it. He was sharp and clever, and never wanted to be something he was not. That was half of Thomas’ problem, how right he felt in his own skin. That was what Jimmy envied, what Jimmy had fought for — that confidence to be who he truly was. Thomas was proud and confident. Thomas never cared he was different than other men — he thought they were the ones missing out. “He couldn’t…” he stared at Miss Baxter. 

“I remember you from before, Jimmy Kent. And I’ve heard what happened between you and Thomas before I arrived at Downton. Mrs. Hughes explained how you led him on — even if it was unwittingly — and I know what losing you did to him once — he couldn’t. I fear he couldn’t… You can not be a flirt and tease to him, he can’t lose you again.”

“But…” Jimmy stepped backward and looked around, wishing for a bench of somewhere to sit. “I can’t… I can’t believe he would… He was so self-assured.” 

“It’s a lie,” Miss Baxter breathed. “If you truly knew him at all, you’d know that?”

“To a point but not…” Jimmy shook his head. “He always fought his corner, Miss Baxter.”

“Well, when you left he lost a lot of his fight…. And I’m not sure if he’s gotten it back. He may be living but…”

“No,” Jimmy shouted. “No… I don’t want to hear more. You’ve said enough… and…”

She stared at him and waited, but words suddenly failed him. 

“And?”

Jimmy stared at her. 

“Jimmy… Why are you here?” she asked. 

He stared at her, his mind processing the story she managed to tell him, and it was filling his heart with horror. Horror and he knew he lacked details and maybe she lacked the details. But she knew enough to tell him that his absence, his lack of contact hurt — harmed — Thomas in ways he hadn’t even thought to imagine. His road back into Thomas’ life was harder and steeper than he realized but… 

“I love him,” he told her. “I’m here because I love him.” 

She stared at him, right into his eyes and he wanted to blink, he wanted to close them. He wanted to turn away from her doubtful stare, but he didn’t dare because if he couldn’t make her see that truth, maybe he couldn’t make Thomas see it either. 

“I love him,” he repeated. 

“You better,” Miss Baxter hissed.


	6. Chapter 6

It was awkward walking next to Miss Baxter. She walked beside him, her head bent down and looked quite small. Silent and barely there — which was how he remembered her. She was wallpaper and Thomas’ pawn. It was all he needed to know at the time. Now, though, things had changed, and somehow it felt like she’d become Thomas’ Queen. Jimmy couldn’t get the words she said out his head, they kept tumbling around and tried to knit together into a picture, a thought, something comprehensible. But his mind kept stumbling against the image of Thomas that he carried with him all these years. 

Bold and brash. Thomas was himself, no matter what anyone else thought or implied. He said what he thought, snarky and witty, and it got him noticed. People paid attention to Thomas — for better or worse. He’d smoke, but it was more than just a man with a cigarette it was entertainment. People watched him, they listened to him — then a lot of them thought better of it. They'd paused to catch the possible double meanings in his phrasing. Wondering if they heard it right, some never noticed, but people always seemed to figure out the one thing that Thomas should’ve been trying to hide.

Everyone knew that Thomas was homosexual. Sure it was a secret but in that way that wasn’t a secret at all. Everyone knew it but no one spoke of it — but it was known. It was known in some strange way like all the other little details that people seemed to know but never spoke aloud. Jimmy never tried to figure out those mysteries before he met Thomas. Before he was friend with Thomas. 

And it was a problem a the beginning of their friendship. Because everyone knowing — or quickly cluing in on it — weighed on Jimmy. They were seen together, laughing and talking. Sharing cigarettes and secrets. The first time someone assumed he was like Thomas shook him because he wasn’t disgusted — and wasn’t he supposed to be?

But for a split second the thought of being with Thomas had thrilled him. Sent a shiver through him and made his eyes fall onto red lips and wonder what it would be like… Until the snide comments from the men implying he was the same registered in his mind. The disgust in their voices and then the voices in his head that sounded like his grandfather, father and even Mr. Carson boomed. It was wrong, it was a sin, it wasn’t right and he couldn’t - wouldn’t - want another man. And later, once they were alone Jimmy had turned on Thomas and shouted… 

_Why can’t you pretend to be like everyone else? Maybe if weren’t so bloody obvious…just hide it, Thomas? Why don’t you bloody hide it?_

He felt sick as he remembered shouting the words at Thomas. He remembered how pinched Thomas expression been and how dark his eyes gotten. How he’d gone quiet after their incident with the two men and how he’d kept giving Jimmy sidelong glances. Worry and anxiety in his movements. Jimmy remembered how off balance he felt, how he kept telling himself he felt disgusted and how irritating he’d found Thomas’ silence. He remembered putting the blame on Thomas, and now with years of hindsight, Jimmy wondered why Thomas hadn’t punched him. 

But it was the first time Thomas had gotten angry with him, it was the first time something other than lust and love shined in Thomas' eyes when looked at him. It was the first time Thomas pushed him right back.

 _Never._ One word. Spoken fiercely and Thomas’ gray eyes seemed black. Jimmy remembered, how Thomas stalked toward him and made him feel like he was prey. He remembered the arousal but the even stronger spike of fear. Then Thomas was hissing at him, his voice low and dark. 

_Not even for **your** comfort. There is nothing wrong with what I am. _

Jimmy remembered running from him, and that he’d spent the night staring at his ceiling and coming to the conclusion that Thomas was fearless — he envied that bravery. It was a jealousy that still burned inside of him. Jimmy felt his breath hitch as remembered Thomas eyes from that night, from that moment. The anger at Jimmy’s suggestion of pretending and the belief that Thomas was right and it was the rest of the world that was wrong.

And it was why Miss Baxter’s words weren’t aligning with his memories. He fought to be someone that Thomas could respect. Someone worthy of Thomas love. Jimmy carried the memories of Thomas’ bravery and bold confidence with him every day. The idea Thomas would attempt to change himself, that Thomas would hurt himself — it felt untrue to him. It had to be a lie…. But Jimmy glanced at Miss Baxter and the worried set of her jaw. He caught her as she glanced at him with trepidation in her gaze.

She wasn’t lying, and Jimmy felt ill-equipped to handle such an ugly truth. It shocked him to realize he was in the servant’s hall. His mind preoccupied with its attempt to parse through Miss Baxter’s information. But Anna was in front of him with a genuine smile of hello. Her kind face the same as always more than two years later — two years and he felt punched by the realization of the length of it. He grinned at her but wondered if it looked as wrong as it felt. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said, and he managed to meet her gaze. It was then he saw a bit of the worry, a bit of the same trepidation that colored every move Baxter made. He fought a frown and nodded. 

“You too, Anna,” he said. 

“Do you miss America?” she asked and there was an odd sharpness suddenly in her eyes. 

“No,” he said, but he felt distant from the conversation. His took in the room and noticing the distinct lack of Thomas. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved by his absence or disappointed. Both feelings filtered through him and he felt a rush of anger at Baxter for blindsiding him. He had no time to think, there was no time to try to prepare. He barely believed it as true, only a deep instinct kept shouting at him it was…

His brave Thomas tried to run from himself. 

“I would think it suited you?” Anna said pulling him back out of his mind. 

He nodded. “It did… but it wasn’t where I belong…” he looked around the room again. “Where is he?” 

“Upstairs still, he’ll be down soon,” Anna said.

Jimmy nodded.

“Why don’t you wait in my sitting room,” Mrs. Hughes voice came from behind him. He turned and saw wary eyes looking right at him and instantly felt like he disappointed a parent. He attempted his usual grin of hello again, but it felt wrong again, and it must’ve looked wrong because Mrs. Hughes answered it with a knowing nod. She then turned to walk into her room, and he followed her. His heart was pounding as he wondered what revelations she was going to punch him with. 

“Close the door,” she said as he stepped in after her. 

Jimmy closed it and watched her sit down at her table. She nodded at the empty chair. He sat down and put his hat on the table. He stared and thought he really never noticed it’s exact shade of blue before — it was easier to notice than the new information about Thomas. 

“You look like you rather be anywhere else,” she said. 

Jimmy looked at her and it there was disappointment in her expression. “No,” he argued. 

“I’m quite aware of why you were let go from Downton,” she said. 

He was too numb he realized to feel the full force of the embarrassment that rushed up inside of him. “That was a mistake.”

“Simple way to put it,” Mrs. Hughes said. 

Jimmy shrugged because he couldn’t do anything about what already been done. That thought sobered him as he thought about what he learned from Miss Baxter. He couldn’t change what Thomas had done? Could he make it better? 

“As you came in with Miss Baxter, I expect that she told you…”

He nodded. 

“And now you look as if you wish to run.”

Run? No. Running wasn’t on his mind at all. “I don’t.”

“Don’t you?” 

“No,” he repeated, but his head was shaking because he was trying to figure out his feelings. He was trying to believe something that his entire base of knowledge told him was impossible. “I believe her.” 

“I admit to not knowing what Miss Baxter shared with you — I have my assumption, based on memory and hindsight. After you left, Mr. Barrow seemed to strip away from himself — and now a newer man has emerged. One I quite like, Mr. Kent. One who came about by surviving pain I had a hand in.” 

“What?” Jimmy said.

“None of us thought he cared what people thought, or that he cared if we liked him or not…”

“Oh, he cared,” Jimmy snapped. 

“I am aware now… it took a drastic act for a lot of us to understand it.” 

“His…” Jimmy looked at his own wrist.

“Yes, his attempt… He’s been better since becoming Butler. I’ve seen a side of him I’d only glimpsed at times over the years. Something I only saw when he was with the children or with you — now that I think about it.”

Jimmy smiled a bit because he remembered Thomas with the children. That easy smile that he usually only saw when he and Thomas were alone. The kindness in his eyes and the protectiveness. The way he hated Nanny West and how Jimmy was the only one who knew it wasn’t about her trying to order Thomas around. 

“I’ve learned of his ability for loyalty and kindness,” Mrs. Hughes continued. “And in the last six months, I’ve seen less and less pain in his eyes — until you walked back into the picture.” 

Jimmy shuddered because it was the truth. Pain was the first thing he saw when he looked into Thomas’ eyes after spotting him at the Phoenix. Pain was the first thing he felt as their mouths crashed together for the first time and pain was what they’d both wished to fuck away upstairs in Thomas’ bed. Pain was there when Thomas shoved him away last night and whispered about how he couldn’t — and asked Jimmy over with fear laced in his voice that he might not come. 

“If that is all you have to give him, Jimmy, I think its best you leave as quickly as possible.” 

“I’m not leaving.”

“You look like you want too,” she said again. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m done running. I made that promise the moment I got back to England…” he sighed. His plan wasn’t being enacted. He was supposed to be here not because he had to chase Thomas to Downton but because he was making the opening move. “I was… I was going to write him. Contact him and ask to visit Downton. But we…” 

Her expression revealed she didn’t believe him and Jimmy knew she had no reason too, none at all and he almost didn’t believe himself since he hadn’t made the first move yet when Thomas stumbled into the Phoenix — and he should have. He was going to be stuck fighting his cowardice for all his life, he thought. But he would fight it, there was no more running away. 

Jimmy glanced around her sitting room and found a clock. He should be down soon, if not already and he made his decision. He stood up. “I’ll wait for him in the servant’s all.” 

With that he walked out of the room, not waiting for Mrs. Hughes. Because she didn’t matter. Miss Baxter didn’t matter. Thomas mattered. Only him. It didn’t matter if confusion and fear made it look like he wanted to run to outside eyes. He knew his truth, and even if a piece of his truth about Thomas was threatened, he was holding onto it. He walked into the servant’s hall, and Thomas was there by the book, writing something down and he felt his breath leave his body. He was beautiful, tall and immaculate. Every hair, every seam perfect and posture straight. 

_You love him_. 

His trepidation didn’t abate, but he felt suddenly on more solid ground. Thomas was a solace despite how deeply Jimmy was worried, how much fear he felt at the things he didn’t know… at the pain that lived inside Thomas’ soul. He wasn’t running. That wasn’t possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Thomas knew he was there before he turned. The air in the room changed, and he felt something weighty on his person. He turned, and their eyes met, and he tried to stop his face from lighting up at the sight of him but it was a foolish thing to hope for. It was Jimmy, and there was so much in his gaze, in his expression, and he seemed to relax at the sight of Thomas. He smiled at him across the room. His eyes seemed to have lit up and did they match Thomas’ own? It made hope twist around his heart. Thomas clenched his jaw, and the anger rose up in his chest and tried to drive hope away. 

Jimmy had always been infuriating, he made him angry more times than he cared to admit because he hated being angry with him. Thomas spent most of his life angry at the world and Jimmy was a respite from it. Jimmy made him happy and overtime he let his guard down. He fell more and more in love with him but it was a pain he could live with if it meant he got to talk with him, got to look at him, got to laugh with him. All the times Jimmy made him angry it was fleeting, it was a fight and then it was over because they worked through it — they worked through the awkwardness. Their friendship never should’ve worked, and over the past few years, Thomas started to wonder if it’d been a mirage. 

But Jimmy was looking at him, and his eyes glinted with cheek. And he remembered it all again and it was real. Thomas wished that gave him comfort, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t. Not anymore. He nodded at Jimmy and walked toward him, walked right by him. He heard a few people talking, but he ignored them and kept walking toward the stairs. They couldn’t talk downstairs, too many eyes and ears… 

And maybe he just wanted to be alone with him. He heard his footsteps behind him, such a familiar sound — how many times had they taken these stairs together? It felt like it never stopped like there weren’t years of no contact between them. But it didn’t put Thomas at ease, all it did was remind him that Jimmy left, he’d gone and Thomas been left with a hole. 

A hole that wanted to feel full again but Thomas’ hand shook as he opened the door to his bedroom. It shook, and he walked in and looked at his bed and remembered. Remembered he’d pulled Jimmy on top of him and let him slip inside him feeling a mess, lost and needy. 

He had to have him at least once…and it hurt to think that be all they’ll be given. Because he wasn’t sure, he could forgive him because the anger he felt was deep and unexpected. Thomas hadn’t known, hadn’t known what space and time had done to him. He only thought about what he missed, what he loved about Jimmy. But seeing him showed him how festered his wounds were and reminded him how tied up his feelings for Jimmy were in all his bad and desperate choices since he left. 

“Thomas?” Jimmy broke the silence. 

He turned and felt relieved Jimmy already shut the door behind him, but he couldn’t speak. Instead, he went over to the desk he had in his room and motioned at the food on it. He invited him to lunch after all. He pulled out his chair and looked at the other one by the wall. Jimmy walked over it and picked it up, carrying it closer, and Thomas had a rush of deja vu to the day he walked into his bedroom and changed Thomas’ life. 

Jimmy had a habit of that. Walking into rooms and changing Thomas’ life. The day they met, that day after the fair and when he appeared back in his life suddenly in The Phoenix. Thomas sat down and motioned at the food again. “Hungry?”

“Not really, to be honest,” Jimmy said as he sat down. 

“Me neither.” 

Jimmy nodded and looked at him. Looked at him with wide eyes, hopeful and scared. But there was something else and it had Thomas shifting in his seat, and he looked away from him. He could hear himself breathing and after a beat heard Jimmy’s hands against his thighs, tapping out a beat — he missed that nervous gesture, and it made his stomach flip. He looked at Jimmy because he was back — Thomas had him back. 

No. It rushed up as quickly as the surge of affection, and he closed his eyes. The conflicting emotions were too much, and he wasn’t at all sure how to get past them, and he realized what he was seeing in Jimmy’s eyes that was bothering him. There was too much worry, too much fear, too much concern and his eyes kept falling onto his hands. His wrists more like it, and Thomas instantly was pulling the cuff over his right wrist. 

“Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes…” Jimmy said after a beat. “They…”

“They what?” Thomas snapped. 

“Miss Baxter said some things…” he stood up and shrugged off his suit jacket and pulled at his tie. Thomas tried not to track the movements, tried not allow his insides to melt at the sight and wish for him to keep going. But Jimmy was staring at him with fear laced with worry. 

“Miss Baxter has nothing to do with us…”

Jimmy made a nervous titter. “Us? No… But I think she’s got a lot to do with you? You two are close now?” 

“She didn’t give me much of a choice,” Thomas revealed. “I was… I wasn’t nice to her, but she kept being kind.” 

“Saw what I know, I’d guess…” Jimmy said.

“What’s that?”

“How big your heart can be if you care,” he said as he sat back down. 

Thomas shook his head. 

“She said you… I can’t wrap my head around what she implied.”

“She should've kept quiet.”

“Looking out for you, though isn’t she…” Jimmy said. “Mrs. Hughes too — and they shouldn’t trust me I guess, none of you should..”

“No. We shouldn’t…” Thomas agreed.

Jimmy winced but nodded his head. “Yeah, deserve that.”

Thomas nodded. 

“She said… you tried to change, Thomas. What you are? Who you are? Is that… is it true?” 

Shame made his tie feel too tight, and his stomach roiled, memories of what he did rising up and a phantom pain in his backside — dark pink and scarred skin. Thomas shook his head because he wanted to forget but he never would. “It was daft. Got taken for a mug.” 

“But…” Jimmy’s voice was full of disbelief. 

“Not proud of it…” Thomas whispered.

“I was always so jealous,” Jimmy said. 

“What?”

“You weren’t afraid of it… of what you are. You weren’t afraid of it. You don’t hide it — you didn’t know how. So sure-footed, proud even…. Never felt out sorts about being different,” Jimmy looked right at him. “She said, she said you nearly died.”

“No,” Thomas denied. “I wasn’t well, yes, but it wasn’t so desperate.” 

“I believe her… well a bit more than I don’t.” Jimmy stood up and crossed the space between them and squatted down to meet Thomas' eyes. He grabbed his right hand, thumb falling onto the scar. “I have to believe it because it’s all right here on your skin and I wish it weren’t. Don’t like…you’re why I fought to be strong. Like you.” 

Thomas yanked his hand back and stood up, shoving past Jimmy he moved as far away as his room allowed. “Never was strong,” he snapped. 

“Were. Are still I reckon,” Jimmy said. 

“What?” Thomas pinned him with a look, needing to see his face and why he’d say that — after what he learned. 

“You’re still standing aren’t you,” Jimmy said. “You survived it.”

Thomas closed his eyes, his head shaking because somedays he wondered if he really had survived it. It was always there in the back of his head, that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t be, that maybe he wasn’t meant for happiness because of what he was… 

But that felt like a lie more and more as the days wore on, and he was remembering why he never backed down in the past, why he always fought his corner. He knew he was no less than anyone. But it was murky again at the moment because Jimmy felt the scars on his wrist and understood what he'd done. Because it brought back what Thomas did after he left, how he harmed himself to change himself…. And he was remembering the hole inside of him that drove him. 

“You always stand proud… I want…” Jimmy sighed. “Please look right me when I say this…”

Thomas sighed but met his gaze. 

“I want to be worthy of you, I fought for that… You were always so brave.”

“Don’t be daft,” Thomas snapped. 

“You survived it.”

“Don’t know about that…” he whispered. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy moved closer and reached out but stopped himself before he touched him.

Disappointment made Thomas swallow, and he hated he felt it. He didn’t want Jimmy to touch him. It was too dangerous. He wanted it too much. It would send hope and want through him and he couldn’t… 

“Why… why did you do it?”

Thomas held Jimmy’s gaze and hated that tears filled his eyes. “You know why…” 

Jimmy winced.

“And you don’t…” Thomas added after a beat. “It wasn’t…just you…” his voice shook, and he raised his right arm. “And this wasn’t you, it wasn’t… Downton was all I had left, and it was being torn away.”

“Thomas.”

“I was tired of being alone… and it started when you left but… Not all of it was about you.” 

Jimmy nodded.

“And it doesn’t matter…”

“It does. You do.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“Don’t do that… I mean it, Thomas. I do.”

“Right…” Thomas rolled his eyes but then he found himself glaring at Jimmy and wishing the sight of him didn’t make him feel like he could be full again. 

“Thomas?”

“Anstruther,” he bit out. 

“What?”

“Anstruther, Jimmy. You… You had to fuck her.” 

Jimmy reddened and stopped looking him in the eye. 

“You had to fuck her — weeks, Jimmy for weeks leading up to it you were complaining about not being with a woman. A woman. And you had to send her a Valentine. Again… And it wasn’t just to stay in good with her, was it? You acted unsure when she showed up, but you high tailed into her bed…. You just had to fuck her. You fucked her, and I lost…” Thomas laughed. “I watched you… I watched you walk into that room, and I felt something. Something yanked right out of me, and as the door clicked closed I thought — I've lost him. I thought I lost you and then thought what a laugh that was because I never had you.” 

“Thomas…”

“No,” Thomas shouted. “No! Years Jimmy…”

“I should’ve written.”

“Not that! Years Jimmy, we were mates for years — more than we weren’t. We were mates, I thought — you were my first true friend…only… I… Years Jimmy you were in this house and the whole time you weren’t like me. You weren’t like me, you were after women and courting Ivy. You were so hard up for a woman you played games with Anstruther. And what did it get you, but out of this place, away from.... You said. You said things, in case we never met again. You were saying we weren’t going to, you were saying a goodbye, forever. You wanted me to be happy and made light of it because you’d be bloody dandy…”

“Thomas…” Jimmy shook his head and stepped closer. 

“NO.”

Jimmy clenched his jaw. 

“Years, Jimmy. Years of Jimmy Kent the proper ladies man…. Are you telling me it was all a lie? You expect to believe that whole time you were like me because there is nothing in my memory that shows that…not one second. There was nothing. Nothing. My memories give no proof you felt anything for me…not past being mates.” 

“It was all dared give you,” Jimmy’s voice broke. “It was all I could dare to give you. I was terrified. You terrified me. You kissed me. I was sleeping, Thomas… what were…” Jimmy trailed off. “When we first met you were touching me and the veiled flirting. I was confused, and it scared me because I was… I thought you were handsome, but I made myself think I didn’t and the kiss was the best excuse because it meant I could hate you and not think about you any other way....”

The kiss. Biggest regret of his life and Thomas knew always would be — he been wrong to an unforgivable level. Jimmy forgave him and it was one thing he never understood, and Jimmy words made him wonder even more how they moved passed it. “It never should've…”

“I forgave you.” 

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” Jimmy asked. “If you can’t forgive me now?”

Thomas felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Hating you was a lie…fueled by how wrong the kiss was — but you changed everything when you took those fists for me. I couldn’t pretend you were a monster. Because your not… you're just fucked up, Thomas. You’re fucked up.”

Thomas laughed the truth of him a punch. “You're talking?” he asked. 

Jimmy grinned. “Takes one to know one… yeah?” 

“I don’t know if I can…” Thomas sighed. “Years Jimmy. The years here and the years with no word. I can’t believe you, I don’t know how to trust you saying you want me when there… There is no proof of it.”

“Haven’t…” Jimmy reached forward and touched Thomas’ face. “We’ve been together…”

“We fucked,” Thomas spat out and stepped out of his touch. 

Jimmy sighed. 

“Never one sign you were like me…”

“I was a liar…. To myself and because of it to you.” 

Thomas shook his head. “Jimmy I can’t…” 

“Thomas…”

“It’s late… I have to go back to work.”

“Don’t make me leave, not yet… this isn’t done,” Jimmy reached out and grabbed his hand. Thomas let him hold it, and he stared at their hands, linked together, and he ached. Thomas looked up and saw fear and worry in Jimmy’s expression and pain behind his dark blue eyes — he missed his eyes, the colors of them and the intelligence behind them. He ached for Jimmy’s mind because he was the only man Thomas ever felt could keep up with him. 

“No, we aren’t done…” Thomas whispered but there was a silent yet and he knew they both heard it and it was breaking them both. 

“Can I stay… wait? I don’t know what, but I’ve gotta find something to say, something to maybe… Maybe at least make you think you might be able to forgive me? I have too… I love you.”

Hope and fear made Thomas feel pathetic but his heart pounded, and he felt himself squeeze Jimmy’s hand. He stared at him and wondered if he could say no him? Because if the anger didn’t abate, he would have to wouldn’t he? 

“Stay,” he whispered and pulled his hand free. 

He heard Jimmy inhale in relief and wished he could feel an ounce of it himself. But Thomas left his room. Left Jimmy Kent standing in it -- and hoped Jimmy found a way to make his pain ebb.


	8. Chapter 8

Thomas took his time walking up the stairs. It was late, and his body ached but doubted it had much to do with the long day. It was Jimmy or rather the hope that Jimmy kept promising him. A dream was being offered him, and he couldn’t reconcile it with reality. He wasn’t given dreams, he never got what he wanted — even on the rare times his schemes were successful they never filled any holes. Getting what he wanted wasn’t a sensation he knew or understood. It was insanity, he thought, it wasn’t possible…. 

But now he knew how Jimmy’s mouth tasted and the length of his tongue against his cock. He paused on the steps and inhaled sharply. He knew what his eyes looked like now when he spoke about loving Thomas. Jimmy's voice was saying things and words he’d taught himself to stop fantasizing about — not that it stopped the dreams, but they’d felt like nightmares once Jimmy left Downton. He lied to himself about getting Jimmy out from under his skin, he realized it now — he never got him out of his mind. He'd pretended that it was random and that it wasn’t often. 

He was a good liar, and he believed himself. He chuckled and looked up the stairs. Jimmy was up there if he hadn’t gotten impatient and left. The thought hurt and he chaffed against it. Against the disappointment, the thought brought up and the fear. And hope. He would leave, wouldn’t he? Probably did, he wasn’t going to wait around in Thomas’ room for a full day with nothing to do. Jimmy hated being bored, and that was all Thomas had to give him. Boredom. He was a musician now. More than that because what Thomas saw the night Jimmy crashed back into his life was a star — maybe it’d only be his sort — their sort? 

Thomas paused on the stairs again. 

Their sort? He thought it again and tried to wrap his mind around it. Their sort. Their. Jimmy was his sort? Memories of Jimmy flirting with almost every woman in a skirt swam in his mind. Jimmy talking about women like they were the most wondrous things in the universe. He was thoughtless and a cad. Jimmy dating and dating one woman right after the other. And getting puffed up if they wanted more from him than fun — had that been a clue? Thomas sighed because no, that wasn’t a clue. Jimmy was rarely serious — not that he couldn’t be. They’d had serious talks, they'd shared secrets and stories. Thomas was confident he was the only one who knew Jimmy's unwanted memories and his treasured ones. Or was he? Had he told them to the other men? The men he chose first, over Thomas, because he never gave Thomas an inch past friendship? It wasn’t a question, he scolded himself and took a breath. If he’d been given that inch, he would’ve grabbed onto Jimmy hard. 

And crossed another line and he had guarded against that. He’d guarded against that their whole friendship because he couldn’t bear to frighten him away. Jimmy had spoken about it. He’d been afraid, and it kept him away from Thomas — and it was justified. An old irritation that came with the name O’Brien scratched under his skin, and he knew he would never forgive her manipulations, and he would always wish her ill. She deserved it, but he shook his head because wherever she was, he knew she was unhappy. He knew she was causing trouble because she didn’t know how to be happy. Not that he did but he was trying, and it was a struggle. It was easier to be angry, and it was easier to push people away. But no one seemed willing to go away and he wasn’t sure he earned it, and he hated that it was probably driven by pity. He pulled on his right cuff and then fiddled with his glove. 

Jimmy left, he thought again. It was late, and he was impatient. The words that sounded like promised and Thomas’ hopes they weren’t real. They couldn’t be… He let out a loud sigh. He wanted them to be, he wanted it, and a piece of him had grabbed those words and was holding them close. Fear spiked, and he started hurrying up the steps. Maybe he hadn’t left, maybe he hadn’t run away, and maybe he meant it? Thomas felt dizzy as his emotions swung back and forth with every step and by the time he reached his door, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find Jimmy there or not… 

What would be worse? What would hurt more? The sight of him or the lack of him? He held the knob in his hand and leaned his head against the door. He needed to catch his breath, he needed to brace himself for both possibilities. 

Straightening his posture, he turned the door knob and pushed it open. He walked straight in after if he didn’t fly forward, he’d run for it. He blinked at his empty room and disappointment slammed into him. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t at the desk where he left him or anywhere. He'd left, and now Thomas felt empty, and he wanted to feel angry. Maybe the anger would catch up to him. He stepped inside more completely and turned to closed to the door but ended up yelping as he jumped clear out of his skin. 

Jimmy snapped awake. Most of him had been sprawled on the floor, his back against the wall right next to Thomas’ door with a book in his hands. It was the book Thomas was currently reading. Memories of all the books they’d read together, their little secret. No one knew about how they passed books back and forth and talked about them. All the conversations, sometimes until the sun started rising and they both rush to try to catch some sleep. 

“Sorry….” Jimmy mumbled and stood up. “Promise it wasn’t the book, this is good.” He raised it up. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You’re here,” Thomas said. 

“You said I could stay,” Jimmy said quickly.

“I just…”

Jimmy’s eyes flashed with anger, but it faded almost instantly. “You thought I leave…suppose I deserve it.” 

Thomas nodded and closed the door. 

Jimmy watched him for a moment, but the turned and walked to the desk. He put the book back where he found it and patted the cover. “Just saw you were reading that and…”

“It’s fine.”

“I missed it,” Jimmy said. “Not the books so much, but the conversations.”

“I….” Thomas swallowed the words before he admitted to anything.

“I was thinking…”

“Dangerous that,” Thomas snarked 

“I hope so,” Jimmy said his tone serious. “Might help me get through.”

“Get through?”

“I am like you Thomas. Always was but I was a good liar. A great one. I believed myself.” 

Thomas wanted to laugh, and he wanted to cry. Tears were threatening, and he cursed his ability to cry. It gave him away, he thought, it always gave him away. He felt too much and too deep. He looked away Jimmy and tried to push away the fact Jimmy just said the thing he’d been thinking about himself. They were alike, he’d always known it — but not as much he wished. Not where it mattered. Only now… 

“What are you saying?” Thomas asked. 

“I’m saying I was lying to us both while I was at Downton.” 

“And I’m expected to believe it? That all that time you were a lie and this is…” 

“You know how thoughts can be faster than seconds, quicker even, how they can come to you and then flit away?” Jimmy asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “It makes them easy to forget, it makes it easy to tell yourself they weren’t real. Thoughts so quick it was easy to lie and say they were never even there…. But they are, and they were. Every day there was a moment I was attracted to you, wanted you — from the day I walked in to interview. That day, Thomas. That very day. It’s funny, cause now they’re clear. Can’t forget them. They haunted me the entire time I was gone. Started right off…”

“Jimmy,” Thomas warned fear of what he might say strangling his voice. 

“You need to know this,” Jimmy argued.

“I just don’t know if I…” Thomas wiped at his eyes. “You left me.” 

“I did,” Jimmy admitted. “But listen, I told you I’ve been thinking.”

Thomas inhaled and decided he needed to sit down and he moved to his bed and sat down on it and looked at Jimmy. Jimmy stepped closer and grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it closer. Too close and not close enough and Thomas wondered if he should get used to the all the contradictory hopes. Jimmy sat, and their eyes met. Thomas nodded. “Go on, then.” 

“I started missing you, and I told myself it was just missing a mate. Missing our snarking and smoke breaks. But I wasn’t thinking about that, I was thinking about all those conversations and the books… I was thinking about the times we fleeced crappy card players in pubs. I was remembering silences the most, you when we just…” he trailed off his voice breaking. “I miss those silences every day, I miss them, and I hate quiet.” 

Thomas smiled a bit and nodded. “Don’t think you were ever quiet enough for any silences…”

Jimmy returned the grin, and Thomas let himself enjoy the flip of his insides. But he felt out of sorts, and he knew Jimmy wasn’t done. “Get to your point…” 

“Right,” Jimmy nodded. “I have a point… I was attracted to you from the day I walked in the door. But I made myself forget those thoughts, and it became easier after — the kiss. But the kiss never stopped the thoughts, but it was easy to shove ‘em aside. It was superficial. You were handsome. It had no depth to it, and I thought it couldn’t, wouldn’t, you crossed a line and I hated you. It was easy to shove away any thought that didn’t fit the box, right? They were seconds, less than seconds. It meant nothing, and then we became mates, but I kept it up. It was easy because I’d been doing it for years already. Any notice of a guy and I pretended it didn’t exist. It was easy as breathing, it was a habit. Any thought that whispered I wasn’t like most men and it flitted away to be forgotten… And I wish, I wish I’d fallen in love with you at first sight, Thomas. Like you did me. Because maybe I’d figured it out sooner because I didn’t realize I loved you until I was gone.” 

“Don’t…” Thomas breathed out.

“Say it?” Jimmy asked and shook his head. “No. I want you to believe it. I didn’t fall for you right away. But I did, and I knew, I knew because I started remembering all those quick-thoughts the longer I was gone. It got harder and harder to tell myself I was missing a mate, that I just missing a bloke I played cards with. Because whenever I found myself missing my mate, my friend, the truth was it I was yearning to see the angles of your face, or how you drew in your cheeks when you smoked… the color of your lips, the way your mouth curled a bit whenever you said something witty or cutting. I tried to forget it, I tried to shove them away, but they weren’t quick-thoughts anymore, somehow they became memories, things I memorized without trying and missed. I missed you in ways I’ve never missed anyone — even my mum. I loved you, and while I was here, I lied to us by saying it was as a mate but it wasn’t, and I loved you, and it terrified me.” 

Thomas felt like he was breathing and pulled at his tie and Jimmy leaned forward on the chair, his gaze intent and his fingers tapping against his thighs. It made Thomas’ heart race. The sight of him and the words he was saying, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. 

“I ran to America. I won’t lie. I ran there, from you, thinking if I put more space between us…” Jimmy sighed. “It didn’t work because you’re inside me, Thomas. It’s like you marked me somehow and I kept thinking about how you were always so self-assured, how it never seemed to bother you when people figured it out. You were…” Jimmy trailed off and moved closer and grabbed Thomas’ left wrist in his hand. “Miss Baxter…what she told me, it scares me because you gave me so much strength when I was gone. Did I somehow steal it? Was it taken when I left? I know it’s not all about me, I believe you but…”

“It was being alone,” Thomas whispered. “I thought… I was always alone. My whole life, no matter how many people are around, I was alone. Until you.”

Jimmy shoved his chair closer, their knees touched and ran his thumb alone of the scar. He was watching his movements, staring at the skin and intense expression on his face. He looked up and right at Thomas pain in his eyes. “I hate that, I hate… I don’t want you hurting.”

“Impossible that…”

Jimmy nodded and wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I’ve spent most of my life afraid of the fact I like men, I’ve spend so much of my life running from that… And, I still struggle to fight sometimes, it’s like a bad habit but I know it’s wrong — the running, Thomas. You’re right to question me when I say I was going to write. I know I was inside, but I was afraid to reach out too… Was afraid I was too late. I should’ve been? Right, 'cause it’s true. It might be too late, and this isn’t…I was a fool to have such simple fantasies about us meeting again. It’s my fault. All the times I thought of writing, I should’ve, but I didn’t and can’t take it back. But, I know I love you, Thomas. It took me accepting myself to accept it. I learned to stop running, because of you, for you. Maybe I had others guiding me, met a few other blokes, but none of them were you — no one compared because it felt like they missed pieces of me. The pieces that you always saw…. And now being here, seeing you, touching you, it’s just made it clearer. I’ll love you until I stop breathing, Thomas. Whether you forgive me or not.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is so short but it insisted it was finished and I do not argue with the story -- more than need be anyway.

_“I’ll love you until I stop breathing, Thomas. Whether you forgive me or not.”_

The room was quiet, but Jimmy’s words echoed. To Thomas, they bounced off of the walls and spun around in his head. All of it, really, the small snippets he was given of Jimmy’s time away. The more Jimmy spoke of it, the more Thomas wanted to know. The more he hated the people who helped Jimmy find his way back to him. And he believed him, he believed it. The whole time Jimmy was gone, he was on a road back to him. But he hated that it happened, he hated the time taken. He hated Jimmy for needing it. 

But his declaration echoed and the truth of it. It seeped into Thomas bit by bit as he processed it. Everything that made him feel bitter and everything that made him feel elated. Hope was in every thump of his heart which was racing, and he felt afraid to move. Or open his eyes. They closed as Jimmy spoke, unable to look at his face as he bared his soul to Thomas. He was too achingly beautiful, and he couldn’t bear to be distracted. He knew deep inside every word Jimmy spoke was the truth. 

So it echoed in his head, and he let it sink in slowly, listened to it again and again in his mind. And slowly he became aware that their legs were bumping, knees brushing and Jimmy was bent close. His hand on Thomas right wrist and his thumb rubbing against the scar. He must know the shape of it by, he thought, and he shuddered because the touch was familiar. Already. In such a short time the gesture was everything, and he felt nothing but comfort from it and wasn’t that terrifying. It was intimate, and it felt real. It felt like he'd always known the way Jimmy stroked his skin, it mingled with their time in his bed — too fast and with too much anger. But this was slow, this was a pinpoint of touch. Jimmy was pouring every emotion he spoken about into the touch. His words kept echoing in Thomas mind, with every up and down stroke. It filled the chasm within Thomas, it filled the hole he believed would be empty for the whole of his life. 

His eyes stung, and he opened them, blinking against the tears and saw Jimmy’s face through the slight blur. His eyes were on Thomas’ wrist, he pushed up the cuffs, baring the scar. It was a deep pink and angry, Thomas hated it. Jimmy’s eyes were full of worry, and he looked like he wasn’t breathing. Thomas inhaled sharply as if he realized maybe he'd forgotten how to breath himself. Jimmy's eyes darted right toward him and their eyes locked. Thomas knew he should say something. He should acknowledge he heard Jimmy, that he believed Jimmy. He should say something about what he’s feeling, but there was too much to say, too much cover and too much to do. It was overwhelming, and he sucked in a few harsh breathes but didn’t dare break their stare. And it echoed one last time in his head, with clarity. Jimmy Kent would love him until his dying breath. 

Thomas lunged forward, hands clapping against Jimmy’s hard and his mouth pressing against. It was bruising and quick, but once his lips were moving against Jimmy’s, he slowed down. He licked at that bottom lip, eyes sliding closed again and he felt a strange wash of peace fall over him when Jimmy let out a small gasp, and his hands pulled Thomas’ tie to pull him even closer. They kissed. They kissed and kissed. Slow and lazy. They found their way onto the bed but there was no relinquishing of their mouths, they kissed and kissed until silence fell again. But this time their bodies curved toward the other, forehead’s touching and staring right into the other's eyes. 

“I hate them,” Thomas said.

“Them?”

“Whoever it was guiding you…” Thomas caressed his cheek. “Got to touch you.”

“Only one touched me… I couldn’t… No one was you, nothing could be as good as you.” 

“You don’t know…”

“I know,” Jimmy whispered. “Already proved it.” 

“You too…” Thomas whispered because his touch and his kiss matched and surpassed all the dreams and fantasies he conjured in his mind. “I don’t believe it.”

“I’ll make you,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas smiled. 

Jimmy’s pulled their hands between them, they grasped onto to the other and not letting go. His thumb on his wrist, near his pulse and his eyes dark with concern, fear, and disbelief. “This… I want to know when you’re ready.” 

Thomas blinked but the tears fell, and he pressed his lips to the back of Jimmy’s hand and took in a sharp breath. “I can’t. I don’t…”

“I’ll wait.”

Fear fluttered in Thomas’ chest. “I…”

“I’ll wait.”

“I wasn’t waiting for you… I thought we were done. That it was over — not that it ever begun…”

“My fault, it’s all my fault, Thomas…” Jimmy lifted his wrist to his mouth and kissed the scar, and Thomas shuddered again — fear ebbed out of him and left the hope. But he knew it would come back, and he knew he would have to learn more. They both did, and he moved closer to Jimmy, their noses brushing and met his eyes. Royal blue, full of concern, pain, and fear — but bright too, with want, comfort, and love. A jolt of fear accompanied what it made him feel, but it didn’t overwhelm. Maybe he could trust him.... 

“I need time.” 

“You’ve got it,” Jimmy whispered. 

“How…how long can you stay?”

“Forever…” Jimmy said, but he sighed on the end of it. “I mean it, though, forever. I’ll stay forever with you.” 

Thomas smiled because he wanted to hear it, as unrealistic as it was, as fantastical as it sounded. It was romance he thought, and a piece of him grabbed at it because he always wanted it. Craved it. He deserved it, a piece of him whispered. The confidence that been silenced and then too quiet for far too long, he felt it flaming to life inside of his bones. He looked at Jimmy, his face and his eyes. He let out a soft, contented sigh and closed his eyes. One more moment, a few more breathes and kissed him. And they fell into it again and tangled together on top of the covers. Slow and soft, greedy and wasting time. 

Wasting time felt like hope to Thomas. 

“Two weeks,” Jimmy whispered in his ear as the kisses died down and the staring began. The two of them drinking in the other's face. “I can get away with two weeks — I think. I don’t care if I can’t, I will. And we can figure it out?” 

It was too short, he thought, fourteen days couldn’t be enough time. Not with so much between them to talk about, to speak about. To cover. Could he open in such a short time? But he nodded and told himself it was a start… 

“And I won’t vanish Thomas… when I have to leave, it’s not you. I’m not leaving you, not again, not if I can help it — and I can. It’s my life. I want it with you… I want a life with you.” 

“Jimmy,” Thomas' voice broke, and he sniffled, emotions catching up with him and the dam only a few tears fallen through broke and he cried. He felt opened up and vulnerable. He was shaking, and he buried his head into Jimmy’s shoulder because all his cracks suddenly felt like they could be fixed and he felt it happening as Jimmy wrapped his arms around him and held him. He held him tight — too tight, crushing Thomas against him, stroking his hair and his back and whispering his name, saying that he loved him.


	10. Chapter 10

Jimmy sat on a bench in Downton Village. The sky was a light blue and he thought it felt his mood. At least a part of it. Over the years he learned he could feel many emotions all at once. It’d been a lesson learned, and the harder lesson was sorting through them all and making sense of it — or not. Sometimes it benefited one to feel it all. The sky and the slight breeze that was cooling his skin it all matched the piece of his mood that had him smiling. That had him unable to stop smiling and he been trying. His cheeks hurt and he wanted to relax them a bit, there was an ache in his jaw, but he couldn’t stop it.

Thomas was angry with him, that much was true. Thomas was angry, that was part and parcel of who Thomas was — and Jimmy always known it. Always seen it and understood it. He had his own constant anger simmering underneath things. They both wanted things the world thought blokes like them shouldn’t have simply by right of birth. They looked at the better things and knew they should have them. That they were allowed to touch them. It was their commonality, and it would always remain. 

His Thomas — Jimmy’s grin widened, and he tipped his head up to let the sun land on his face. His Thomas held anger at never being accepted, of always standing on the outside. Of being shoved and told he doesn’t belong. Thomas held anger at never getting what he wants, over and over having things yanked from him. Jimmy swallowed, and a worry rushed through him. That anger turned into dents and bruises in Thomas confidence as the years waned on — and who could blame him? 

He held Thomas last night as he shook and cried. And he saw the man who could have cut his wrists for the first time. He heard the sobs of the uncertainty and the clutch of someone who was holding on for his life. Jimmy knew he needed to be Thomas’ lifeline, the man who would hold him up and never let him drown in the bitterness. Not again, never again. Jimmy knew he needed to learn the story, the moments and the losses — besides himself — that put Thomas on a path Jimmy before last night could never have pictured him on. 

Thomas had been broken and he was angry. But he was going to try to forgive Jimmy for his shortcomings. He was going to try to forgive Jimmy for being too slow and nearly too late. Jimmy shuddered at the thought, at the idea that quite easily he could have lost Thomas before he found him again. 

But Jimmy woken up with his arms around Thomas as golden morning light filled Thomas’ room. He woken up to the man he loved, curled into him and his head on his chest. They'd been wrapped up together, and they hadn’t wanted to move apart as the day began. They'd barely spoken, and Jimmy helped Thomas put his livery to rights, and it felt natural and right. To watch him gather himself together for his day as a butler. His Thomas the Butler of Downton Abbey — and he knew without being told how important it was to Thomas. What it meant to him. Because he knew, he knew all along how important representing the house had been to Thomas — that he truly cared what Carson, Mrs. Hughes, and the others thought of him. Even as he pushed at them and made it hard for people to like him…

They finally saw him, Jimmy thought. They all finally saw what he’d learned the day of the fair in Thirsk. Thomas Barrow was brave and worthy of love. Guilt made his insides sink because he’d taken too long to see just how he loved Thomas. But he knew, he knew, and he was back, and he wasn’t leaving him. Ever again. 

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew the world would be against them, but he didn’t care. He long decided he didn’t care what people thought of him — he was going to live the life he wanted too and he was going to himself. He was lucky, far more lucky, than Thomas. His personality was charming, but there was layer of bravado and hamminess. People knew the entertainer and not really him — except Thomas. He’d seen through his pride and clownish ways all those years ago, and he still saw through him. 

It was how he knew, how he saw it. Thomas believed him despite all the reasons not too. Because Jimmy’s story sounded like a pack of lies. He supposed that was how it worked — when you spent so many years lying and pretending so well not a soul questioned you. When you admitted your truth, it looked and sounded false. But Thomas saw him, saw the real him and Jimmy’s gratitude was enough to make him feel dizzy. 

“Jimmy?” 

He straightened up in his seat on the bench and saw Daisy standing in front of him. A basket full of groceries and a strange look on her face. He grinned at her — not that it took much. He couldn’t stop smiling, after all, not when he could still feel Thomas’ kisses from last night and the weight of the belief in Thomas’ eyes when he told him once again he believed him. He watched Daisy’s face redden as their eyes met and remembered that the last time she’d seen him, he’d been desperately kissing Thomas in the servant’s hall. 

“Hey, Daisy,” he said, trying to sound even but his voice sounded giddy to him. Boyish with happiness. 

“Are you coming to the house?” she asked him.

“A bit later, yeah,” Jimmy said. 

Daisy nodded and looked around them. He watched her and wondered if he should try to broach the subject that hung between them. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how much Daisy understood — he knew from when he left Downton that Daisy remained in the dark about Thomas. She kept looking around, and then she shrugged and before he knew it she was sitting next to him. The basket at her feet. Her face was red, but she looked at him, boldness in her eyes — something else that changed since he left. Daisy was a force in her way, but he never seen this from her. 

“Andy explained…” she said.

“Andy? The footman?” Jimmy asked. 

She nodded. 

“Good.”

“He told me a few things,” she said. 

“Did it make sense?” Jimmy asked. 

“I think so… Thomas’ been different since he became Butler…. Mr. Barrow,” she sighed. 

“He doesn’t really mind when you forget,” Jimmy shared.

Daisy gave him a look that said she believed otherwise.

“Really,” Jimmy nodded. “He likes you, always has.” 

“Hard to tell…” she said but shook her head. “Well, used to be.” 

Jimmy nodded. 

“He was sad, really sad for a long time, Jimmy. And well… even I knew it was about you. At least at first. You were the only person he ever got along with. Was it…” she blushed and looked away. 

“He loves me,” Jimmy said. 

“Mrs. Hughes said that… she explained too.” 

Jimmy chuckled a bit. 

“You love him?” Daisy asked looking right at him again. 

“Yes.”

“But…” she looked around. “Is that safe?”

“Maybe not,” he said, but he shrugged. 

“Then shouldn’t you leave?” she said.

“I will never leave him again,” Jimmy said his voice lowering. “I’ll never leave him again.”

“But, what if you and he get in…”

“We won’t.” 

“How do....”

“It’s the risk we’ll take.”

“Why?”

“We’re in love,” Jimmy said, and all his breath left him. They were in love, and he felt his whole face curl into a wide smile, and he tried to tamp it down and try for some decorum, but he couldn’t stop it. It was all light and blue skies and soft breezes. It wasn’t simple of course, but what was — not him and definitely not Thomas. 

“Mrs. Hughes doesn’t trust you much…” Daisy said, a dark look in her eyes. 

“Neither does Thomas….” Jimmy said. 

Daisy’s face fell into confusion. 

“I was awful, I know.”

“You weren’t awful… weren’t all that nice. But you weren’t awful. Just wished you stop fooling with Ivy to upset Alfred. It wasn’t nice.”

“No… Where is Ivy?” he asked out of curiosity.

“She went to America to work for Mrs. Levinson.”

Jimmy felt his eyebrows go to his hairline and he whistled. “Wow, good on Ivy.”

“I told her too… her assistant wanted me to, but I couldn’t leave Mr. Mason.” 

“Right, you have his farm.”

“I didn’t love William, not like he loved me,” Daisy said. “Been thinking about that since… I found out about Thomas. You.” 

“Okay?” Jimmy said. 

“Mrs. Hughes, she said Thomas always loved you, does love you but you didn’t care about him like that.” 

“She’s wrong.”

“But you acted like it, right? You courted Ivy.”

“Wouldn’t say that was a proper courting. It was a lie, but I was lying to myself. I was confused.”

“Cause it’s a sin?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Never cared about religion, to be honest… no, it was the world. It says things like men like us aren’t really men, we’re sinister or some daft shit…”

Daisy’s eyebrows rose.

“Sorry. I bought into it. I believed it too, hated that side of me and buried it deep. But Thomas he challenged all that cause he’s a man. He’s not the image they tell his sort is — he’s not feminine and all those lies. He’s just a man… And he’s complicated, but he’s amazing. Not that he lets many see it.” 

“Been catching glimpses…” Daisy said. “He’s been nicer since… well they don’t know I know. But I knew he wasn’t sick with the flu — that’s what they kept saying. But it wasn’t that, and I knew he was sad. Known him so long, not like you, but we’ve been at the house the same amount of time. Known Thomas forever.”

Jimmy nodded. “Feel like I have.” 

“I don’t want to see him sad or bitter. Gotten used to the somewhat nicer side of him… He’s happier.” 

“Hoping to make him even happier, Daisy.”

“Truly?”

“I swear it.”

“Don’t much think Mrs. Hughes will like it.”

“Too bad,” Jimmy said. “She ain’t his mum.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I gotta get back… It’s nice you're back, Jimmy.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure if she meant it or not. “It’s nice to see you, Daisy. Always is…” it was true because the truth was out of her, Ivy and Alfred she was the only one he respected. “You’ve gotten sharper. I like it.”

“Been learning, taking lessons…” she grinned. “Going to run a farm, needed to know numbers and sorts.”

Jimmy grinned. 

“I’ll see you?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and walked off. He watched her walk down the path until she was out of his sight. His jaw ached, and Thomas was the main thought on his mind — not a new experience. Jimmy thought maybe she was in his corner, it was hard to tell. He knew he had an uphill battle, be nice to have one friendly ear — besides Thomas. But he was his hardest sell. He knew Mrs. Hughes, and Miss Baxter probably thought it was them, but he could handle them. They were nothing. No Thomas was everything, and he was going to have his walls up. Maybe he believed Jimmy. He definitely loved Jimmy. But it didn’t mean that he was going bend over and welcome Jimmy back without issue. 

But Jimmy was going prove it. Jimmy was going to woo him. Jimmy was going to seduce him. Jimmy was going to prove himself. He fought to find himself, and now he would fight for Thomas. It terrified, he might lose the battle, but he wasn’t going to let Thomas push him away. He wasn’t going to push Thomas away — he fought to get back to him. 

And he made it just in time, just in time… 

The world almost lost Thomas Barrow. Jimmy was going to make sure that never happened again. The world would be nothing without him in it. Nothing. Jimmy would be nothing without him. Jimmy would have remained a cad and a womanizer. A bachelor, never settling down and never amounting to a damn thing. But he was someone now, maybe not in the eyes of most — but he was known musician now in certain circles. Circles that appreciated his talents and he had the respect of his boss at The Phoenix. He created a life, one that been crafted to include Thomas Barrow into it.

His heart pounded, and he smiled, thinking about last night. Thomas believed him, Thomas saw that Jimmy loved him. It was the first step, and he knew that — and they needed to talk. There was almost too much to talk about. Journeys the two of the took in their time apart. The pain and agony he knew Thomas endured — Jimmy felt his eyes fill with tears and wiped at them. He didn’t want to learn about Thomas’ pain, but he knew he must. Unflinchingly. He would feel that pain and try to help Thomas truly recover.

His smile faded for the first time the memory of how Thomas shook in his arms as he cried. Broken and shattered pieces and Jimmy held him tight, too tight, he'd seen his finger-shaped bruises on Thomas’ arm. They both had, but Thomas smiled at him, and Jimmy thought for a brief second maybe he had healed him somehow — maybe a bit. He hoped. He wanted to help him cope. They were two jagged pieces, their outer shells lies to the world, but they could be truth together… 

He needed to chase Thomas. This time it was going to be more about Jimmy loving Thomas than Thomas loving him. Thomas always put him first, and it was time Jimmy put Thomas first. 

“Always,” he thought. “Forever. ’Til, my dying breathe.”


	11. Chapter 11

Jimmy slowed down his pace the moment he spotted Thomas. Stunned by the sight and how perfectly ordinary it was. He was smoking. He stood outside the house, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling from it. Thomas was a few feet from the house, staring toward the horizon. At the sky, Jimmy knew, Thomas loved the sky. It was a secret he knew that no one did, he sussed it out after moments such as this when he once stood next to Thomas and felt huffy something else had his attention. Jealous of the sky — he should’ve known sooner, and Jimmy chuckled. But he remained where he stood and watched Thomas smoke. It was familiar and ordinary. Graceful moves and pluming smoke — no one smoked like him. Smoking kept Thomas’ head clear, with every puff of smoke out of his mouth and nostrils was an exhale of bitterness, worry, random thoughts — it all depended on his mood. Jimmy wondered what he was thinking about right now. He watched him take a long inhale and stared at his cheekbones. At his profile and sighed at how handsome he was…. Beautiful really. 

Jimmy needed to be closer, and he started walking again and until he stood next to him. Nudged him slightly with his arm, like always used to do and held out his hand. Thomas chuckled and shared a cigarette and lighting it with his lighter — the same one, always the same one and Jimmy knew that secret as well. The day Thomas trusted him with it was the day Jimmy knew they were best mates and that he was closer to Thomas than anyone else in his life. It remained. No one came close. 

“Daisy said she saw you down in the village.”

“Was enjoying the sun, don’t get to laze around much… know how I like it.”

Thomas smiled. “I recall.”

“I recall things too,” he said and lifted the bag he was carrying. “Here.” 

Thomas glanced at the bag and took it. “What’s this?”

“Open it will you?” Jimmy laughed.

Thomas put his cigarette in his mouth, pressing his lips on it to keep it still as he took the bag and opened it up. He grinned and pulled out the box of chocolates, his cheeks reddening. “Jimmy, these are too expensive…”

“I can afford it.”

“Piano playing is that lucrative?”

“It’s all in the tips, and I get a lot of tips,” Jimmy smirked. 

“Right…” Thomas opened the box up and replaced the cigarette with the chocolate. He held out the box and offered one to Jimmy. 

“I’m good… It’s for you, anyway,” Jimmy said and puffed on his cigarette. 

“Suit yourself.” But Thomas grinned and popped another chocolate in his mouth. Making a noise that had Jimmy wishing, they weren’t standing outside.

“I missed this,” Jimmy said. 

“You have?” Thomas asked and his surprise annoyed Jimmy.

“Course I have…” Jimmy snapped. 

“Just smoking,” Thomas said. 

“No. No, it wasn’t,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas glanced at him and then looked at the horizon. At the falling sun and the clouds. Jimmy realized the time and knew Thomas would have to go inside soon — but he would follow him inside. He couldn’t help to wonder what Mrs. Hughes and Miss Baxter were going to make of it. Intuition told him they would need charming — if possible. He was worried but not too concerned it was a challenge he was up to. Jimmy glanced at Thomas as he popped another chocolate into his mouth, tongue licking his lips as he swallowed it. He wanted to touch him. 

“You’re going to eat them all you keep going,” Jimmy laughed. 

Thomas shrugged. “Don’t get the good stuff often…” but he closed the box and put it back in the bag. “Can’t let them lot see this, I’ll have to share.”

“Can’t have that.”

“No, can’t have that,” Thomas laughed. “I hate sharing.” 

“Offered me some…”

“That’s different,” Thomas said, and their eyes met. 

“Yeah, guess it is,” Jimmy whispered.

They swayed, toward each other, they were close enough their bodies touched, but a dark barking made them back step backward and away from each other. Suddenly, a golden retriever was jumping all around them, barking excitedly. Nose going toward the bag of chocolate. Jimmy laughed as Thomas held the bag up. 

“Tiaa down…” Thomas laughed. “Not giving you a taste for chocolate.” 

“He just hates to share,” Jimmy argued and bent down to pet the dog. “Aren’t you a pretty one.”

“Don’t rile her up,” Thomas chastised but Jimmy looked up, and Thomas' face was soft, and the way he was staring at him made his insides flip. 

“Not her I want to rile up,” Jimmy said. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas laughed. 

“Truth isn’t it,” he said and stood up. 

“Not the only one,” Thomas admitted, but he glanced behind them. At the house. “We… I have to get back.”

“I know, I can hang down here.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere until…”

Thomas stiffened, and Jimmy reached out and grabbed his hand. "There's no rush."

"You leave in 12 days…" Thomas sighed. 

"And then I'll be back…" Jimmy stepped closer. "Whatever happens while I am here, it's the start. _Our_ start, Thomas. A beginning… no more endings, right?"

"No goodbyes?"

"Never again," Jimmy nodded.

He nodded, and the door behind them creaked open. "Mr. Barrow it's time."

"Thank you, Andy," Thomas called back to the footman, he motioned for Jimmy to follow him. They made their way into the the house, Jimmy inhaled deeply and felt a wave of homesickness he hadn't expected. Downton had specific scent, Mrs. Patmore's cooking, silver polish and whatever it was that was in the walls and the floors. He missed it he realized, not as much as Thomas himself, but he missed this place. It was the closest he ever had to a home since his childhood… 

But that was Thomas, who he followed into the room that once belonged to Carson. He looked around the rooms and found he loved the changes Thomas made to the room. Books and a few ornate decorations that were less expensive than they looked. It was the books though, new and old, and he picked one up that was on the desk and saw a bookmark in it. "Upstairs and downstairs reading?"

"A bit… not that I get much time down here," Thomas said as he put his chocolate in a drawer and locked it. Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"I don't share," Thomas smirked. 

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't… spent that money on you." 

"Andy, if you would get started, I'll be right out… close the door, will you?"

Jimmy turned having forgotten the footman was with them at all, Andy was looking at Thomas and nodded. He started closing the door, but he shot Jimmy a look -- one of curiosity but also wariness. Jimmy nodded at him and respected the protectiveness even if it made him chafe a bit. He wasn't going to hurt him, never again -- and he never meant to hurt Thomas. Well, not since Thirsk. Not that intention saved him from feeling guilty. And they cared about Thomas, and maybe they loved him. But Jimmy loved him more, and they were going have to learn that and accept it. The door clicked shut, and Jimmy felt hands on his shoulders. He turned back and got lost in gray eyes for the split second before Thomas's eyes slid shut as his mouth pressed against Jimmy's. 

Jimmy leaned up onto his toes, hands carefully sliding around Thomas' waist, fighting the urge to grab onto the fabric -- he couldn't mess him up. As much as he wished to and he told himself later, later he could mess Thomas up. He opened his mouth and found he loved the taste of cigarette and chocolate that was on Thomas' tongue. He whined as Thomas broke the kiss, making his own noise of discontent. 

"I have to get upstairs, I've told Mrs. Patmore to let you eat…" 

"Will she listen?"

"I think she's missed your bonny face," Thomas said with a wink. 

Jimmy laughed and followed Thomas out of the room. He watched him walk up the staircase. Then he turned and made his way into the servant's hall. Anna and Mr. Bates were at the table, and he felt a jolt of worry at the sight of Bates. They'd never gotten along, and it all came down to Thomas. Funnily enough at first because Bates sided with him against Jimmy. And then because Bates had little time for Thomas and as an extension that applied to Jimmy. Not they'd gotten on anyway -- Jimmy expected he was too like Thomas for Bates taste. 

"Jimmy," he said. 

"Mr. Bates," he said, and he sat down across from Anna. 

"Anna says you're visiting, Mr. Barrow?"

"I am," Jimmy said and glanced at Anna and fought to not show any panic. How much had she shared with her husband? She shook her head slightly, and Jimmy knew she kept it quiet -- probably on Mrs. Hughes request, or maybe because she was Anna. He wasn't sure but he was thankful, and he nodded slightly at her. 

"Where have you been?"

"America, mostly…. In London now, West End. Playing piano at a few clubs."

"So out of service then?"

"Yes."

"Thought perhaps you maybe worked for the Dowager Countess Anstruther after leaving us…"

So, Bates knew why he'd left Downton. Jimmy met his eyes and shook his head. "I was offered a position, but I didn't fancy it. Prefer being me own boss." 

"I'm sure you do -- I wasn't aware you and Mr. Barrow were staying in touch."

Jimmy studied Bates and wished it was easier to read the man. Was he protective too? Or was he being suspicious? "What does it matter to you?" he asked. 

"I suppose it doesn't." 

"Tell us about America," Anna interjected and shot Bates a look. "What is it like?"

"Different, the same…" Jimmy laughed and tried to think about the things he could share with someone like Anna Bates. "The music is amazing…" 

"Could you play some?" Daisy's voice carried ahead of her as she came from the kitchen with tea on a tray for the three of them. 

"Love too."

"No ones played the piano in an age…" Mrs. Hughes said appearing. "It might be quite out of tune." 

"Can only see…" Jimmy said, and he hopped up and sat down at it but before he could play Mrs. Hughes spoke again.

"How long are staying in Downton?"

"Little under two weeks…. All I can afford to be away from my work." 

"That's quite a long visit," Mrs. Hughes said.

"Well, Thomas and I have some catching up to do, Mrs. Hughes… it's been years." 

"That's it been…" she said. 

"And there is a lot to talk about," he said meeting her eyes. 

"Especially given the lack of correspondence," Mrs. Hughes added.

Jimmy fought back a scowl, but he couldn't stop the sigh. She wasn't going to make it easy on him. He couldn't blame her he supposed but damn it, he wasn't a threat, and he wasn't going to hurt him -- was going to do his best to never hurt him again. He pressed his hands down on the piano and randomly started to play one of his pieces to see if the piano was in tune or not. 

"Oh, is that American Jazz?" Anna asked.

Jimmy blushed and realized that was what he should've been playing. "Uh, no… that's Jimmy Kent," he laughed a bit embarrassed. 

"You wrote your own music?" It was Daisy again. 

He turned and met her wide eyes with a grin. "Of course."

"Does Thomas know?" she asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "Not yet, guess he'll find out soon enough."

"Keep playing it, it was nice…" Anna said. 

He heard Bates snort but ignored him and met Mrs. Hughes' eyes. "Is that okay, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Very well, go on then…" she said after a long pause. "Show off."


	12. Chapter 12

They were halfway up the staircase when Jimmy felt Thomas’ fingertips brushing against the side of his hand. He moved his hand into the touch, their fingers brushing and then they were holding hands. No telling who truly clasped them together. But Jimmy could still feel the tingle from the first whisper a touch, and he glanced sideways at Thomas. Whose expression wasn’t quite his servants blank but it wasn’t telling — he was staring straight ahead, posture straight. If Jimmy hadn’t known their hands were threaded together, he would have believed Thomas was simply walking up a case of stairs at the end of his day. But Jimmy knew the truth, Thomas brought them both to his room. Jimmy shivered a bit as he remembered waking up next to Thomas. How their eyes seemed to fluttered open together, or maybe Thomas was just blinking. But he woke up staring into gray eyes and realized he had never forgotten the shades of gray. He knew them all and his heartbeat quickened — then and now. 

They turned as they stepped onto a landing and Thomas tightened their handhold and sped up his step. Slightly but it was enough of a shift that Jimmy felt himself being hurried. He swallowed the teasing words that wanted to leave his throat. He didn’t want to break the silence, Thomas was being quiet in that way he had — it was on purpose. He didn’t want words and Jimmy knew they needed to speak, but that wasn’t Thomas wanted. Not at the moment, anyway, and Jimmy was doing his best to read Thomas right. He didn’t want to get it wrong. He didn’t want to push. He was afraid of most of the topics they needed to visit — he wasn’t in a hurry to talk. Not really. But he felt it pressing against him, nonetheless. He wanted a future with Thomas. His instincts were telling him right now to simply breathe and be. 

They’d been fighting since Jimmy returned but they weren’t anymore. They'd broken through to each other. Thomas was letting him back in — the way Jimmy always hoped. Today was a reprieve. Maybe it was a calm. Today he brought Thomas chocolate, and they talked about nothing at all. They shared cigarettes, and Jimmy played Thomas a few of the songs he always wondered if he’d like or not — he liked one but not the other. But Jimmy had guessed he wouldn’t like the second and knowing he was right was everything. 

He knew Thomas. He still knew him. After all this time. He would always know him. He knew him the day he met him. It scared him, their connection, that wasn’t how things worked. You didn’t meet people and think, always, from the first meeting of eyes. It wasn’t odd he fought it, doubted it but no more. He knew him, and he liked knowing he knew him. 

Thomas opened the door to his room and pulled Jimmy in behind him. The door closed behind him with a snap, and Thomas’ hand was on Jimmy’s chest, and he pushed him against the door. It thumped from his weight, but it held. Thomas grinned and crowded into Jimmy’s space and locked it. He stared down into Jimmy’s eyes and Jimmy met his own. And swallowed all his questions because he knew he didn’t need to voice them because Thomas was about to make it all clear.

Thomas crowded into him, hands on his chest and one lifted up and grabbed at the knot of his tie. He looked down at it and then Jimmy in the eye. Before his eyes darted down to his mouth. He let out a whimper. A sigh. And Jimmy felt himself gasp, his breathing sounded louder to his ears. He reached up toward Thomas’ shoulders’ only to get his hand slapped away and a shake of Thomas' head. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas whispered and he undid Jimmy’s tie. The knot becoming nothing in his hands and he yanked at the fabric until was free and dropped it. His eyes darted toward it, wanting to see its descent but Thomas made a noise, and he snapped his attention back toward him. 

Thomas smiled, and it was both seductive and feral. He swallowed and nodded. He waited for whatever was next. Thomas stared at him. Looking at his face and his chest. He tilted back on his heels and studied the whole of Jimmy. A slow and long stare. A hard look that made Jimmy feel naked despite being fully dressed. Thomas reached forward and motioned at him to take off his suit jacket. He rushed to do it, his patience being tested. Thomas chuckled and leaned into his space to whisper in his ear. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

“Don’t doubt that for a second,” Jimmy muttered and found he enjoyed the heat he felt on his cheeks. He winked as their gazes locked and Thomas chuckled again. 

“Still… be still,” he said and pressed his palm against his chest again and pushed him against the door. “I’m taking my time.”

Jimmy swallowed and nodded. 

Thomas reached out and tugged buttons lose to reveal his the length of his neck. He reached out with his left hand and pressed it against Jimmy’s throat with a light pressure. The glove tickled and Thomas' fingers were cold. He shivered but whined when Thomas pulled his hand away. But Thomas pulled off his glove, and his hand returned to where it been. This time his full palm against Jimmy’s skin and he felt goosebumps wave across his skin. 

“So warm…” Thomas whispered before stepping closer and bending down. His lips brushed against Jimmy’s throat, kissing upward with his tongue licking up against his Adam's apple. Jimmy tilted his head back and whimpered, his hands coming up to grab at Thomas' head, at his hair, but Thomas batted at his hands and pulled away from him. 

“Thomas…” he whined. 

“Shh…” Thomas laughed, and his fingers were at his shirt again. This time freeing him from it completely. He hurried to help him tug it off of his arms and sighed when Thomas didn’t pause before lifting his undershirt up and over his head. 

Thomas' mouth crashed against his the second the shirt was off of him. His hands grabbed at his waist and pulled him in closer. Jimmy opened his mouth to him and sighed Thomas’ name as their tongues met. It was different than last night when they kissed slowly with no end in sight. When they'd savored and learned the shape and taste of each other. This was urgent, this was leading somewhere, and impatience fueled him, and when they parted for breath, Jimmy went for Thomas’s tie but got pushed away again. 

“Thomas…” he sighed. 

But he just stared at Jimmy again, his eyes a dark storm and intense. “Not changing course,” he said and grabbed Jimmy by his shoulders, only to spin him around. “You won’t remember,” Thomas whispered. 

“Remember?”

“The first time I saw the skin of your back,” Thomas pressed a kiss to his shoulder, one his hands between Jimmy’s shoulder blades and the other on his hip. “You’d just gotten hired and were putting on your livery… hadn’t gotten very far…” 

Jimmy felt another kiss on his shoulder, then the back of his neck, and then between his shoulder blades as Thomas' hands pressed into the skin of his back. 

“All that golden skin and muscles…” Thomas sighed. “Haven’t changed at all, better than my memories all the same. So many dreams, so many fantasies.” 

“This one?” 

“No.” Thomas stroked down Jimmy’s spine and reached out to free him from his pants.

Jimmy turned around to face him but let him do the work, pulling everything down and taking everything off. All he did was toe off his shoes and feel the cooler air of the room against all of his skin. Thomas made a noise from the back of the throat and drank Jimmy in. Staring again and Jimmy never wanted him to look away. But he also wanted him to touch. 

“You’re real.” Thomas stepped forward and kissed him, one hand wrapped around his cock. 

Jimmy's eyes slid closed. 

Thomas stroked his cock and started pressing kisses against his neck, trailing down his shoulders. He gripped him and whispered Jimmy’s name between breaths. Jimmy groaned and reached out, tugging the layers of Thomas’ clothes, pushing hands under the fabric and pushing down until he felt his ass in his hands. 

“Thomas…” he whined and their lips found each other. 

Thomas stepped and started stripping, Jimmy all impatience rushed into help. Jimmy pressed into him the moment he was naked, Grabbing him and kissing him for all he was worth. Pulling at him, hand hard at his hip and letting their erections meet between them. Thomas sighed into the kiss, into the touches and let Jimmy push him down on the bed. 

“Jimmy,” he whispered eyes wide. 

“It’ll be better,” Jimmy said what he was thinking. 

“What?”

“You’re going to let me love you tonight… it’ll be better.” 

“Oh,” Thomas breathed. 

Jimmy sighed and climbed over him, pressed their foreheads together. “I’m shaking.” 

“I feel it…” Thomas ran his hands up down Jimmy’s back.

Jimmy felt like something was in his throat, and he closed his eyes. His heart a rapid rhythm in his ears. He opened them again and saw Thomas staring at him again, savoring him, and he sighed. “You don’t need to memorize me.”

Thomas shook his head and touched his cheek. “I’m not, I just… you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m nervous,” Jimmy admitted. 

Thomas nodded. 

“I know we…” Jimmy shook his head. “But that wasn’t…”

“No points to prove…” Thomas kissed him and ran his hands down Jimmy’s back. “Just want to touch and taste as much as your skin as I can… and then do all again. I just want to be with you, Jimmy. Because I’ve always wanted to be with you and have you want to be with me…. You do?”

“Absolutely,” Jimmy kissed him and ground down against him. “I want you, I want to be with you. I want us…”

“Show me.”

Jimmy kissed him, not too hard but not slowly. He kissed him and tried to pour in all his apologies. All his sorrow and regret at not facing the truth sooner. All his wishes he hadn’t been rubbish and written. All the love that felt, that consumed and burned him up. He kissed Thomas and felt his legs wrap around his waist. Their cocks meeting, trapped between them and he kissed Thomas. He felt hands against his back, pressing into the muscles over his shoulder blades, hands ghosting over his skin the softest of brushes and lips against his throat and shoulders. He kissed Thomas’ jaw and his throat and his chest. And he wrapped his mouth around his cock and looked up and meet gray eyes that shined with both lust and love. Hands were in his hair, twisting it and pushing his head and he nodded before swallowing Thomas deeper. 

Time slowed and sped up. He found himself kissing Thomas again and again. Then he was slicking Thomas up, slowly and carefully, pressing kisses to this thighs and blushing at the things Thomas was breathing out in whispers about how much he loved him. Jimmy lost his breath when he entered him, he shuddered to a complete stop and felt Thomas wrap his arms around, and their eyes met. Jimmy blinked as tears filled his eyes, his heart felt like it was in his throat and he hiccuped as he tried to deal with how overwhelmed everything was. 

“Jimmy,” Thomas whispered.

“It’s just…”

“What?”

Jimmy started thrusting, long and lazy and Thomas whimpered, but his gaze kept asking the same question. He wanted to answer him, but it was all too much. It was years, and it was awe that Thomas was trusting him, that Thomas was giving him a shot — because he nearly lost. Jimmy nearly not given himself this and he groaned at the feeling not only being inside Thomas. It was more than that, he was holding him, and he was looking right at him and seeing the pure honesty of Thomas’ love for him. 

“You’re everything,” Jimmy whispered and thought it an understatement.


	13. Chapter 13

Thomas' eyes fluttered his mind grasping to place the sensations that drawn him out of sleep. He was on his stomach, hugging a pillow and Jimmy was behind him, his body pressed against the back of his. He felt the whole length of his body, warm — his skin was so warm and the hard lines of his body, he felt his hip digging into his lower back and hands pressed into his shoulders as Jimmy kissed his spine with his mouth. Waking made him tense, but his whole body relaxed instantly and sank into the mattress, letting Jimmy’s weight press him there and Jimmy’s mouth, lips hot, pressed against the skin of his back.

“There is this lie I used to tell myself, though it’s true too… I guess it’s both,” Jimmy spoke, his breath against Thomas' skin and he shivered. “I used to say that I was only noticing you because you looked — unreal.” 

Thomas snorted. 

“But you do…” Jimmy licked up his spine. “All pale skin and dark hair. Red lips and perfect profile… it’s like you were a fictional hero from some book or an actor in a picture. One who was painted up but you aren’t painted. You’re you, and you’re too handsome to be real — so I wasn’t attracted to you, I was just noticing that you were different. Always so different…”

Thomas sighed.

“It’s a good thing…”

“Isn’t.”

“Is,” Jimmy argued and started kissing down his spine again. “But it was a lie, an excuse because I’m just attracted to you… and want to touch you and do this to you…” he kept kissed down his spine, moving his body downward. 

Thomas’ eyes fluttered closed, and he gripped the pillow that his face against. He held it because he felt like he might fall, despite lying down and he was trying to ground himself. It was easy. This was easy. Jimmy Kent in his bed was easy. It felt right in all the ways he always dreamed it would — there was nothing off about it, nothing that made him feel weird. Jimmy just belonged. He belonged over Thomas, his hot lips pressed against his spine and descending lower and lower. Waking up to his touch felt like everything he dreamed — it was the fantasy of finding solace and home. And passion, he thought, as he felt himself growing harder, enjoying the press of his erection into the mattress and the soft glide of Jimmy’s lips. 

“You’re beautiful…” Jimmy whispered.

He felt his body heat rise and shook his head into the pillow. He wasn’t some fairytale prince or an actor that turned heads on a movie screen. He wasn’t anything compared to Jimmy. But he almost believed him, feeling his lips and some teeth, feeling hands moving against his skin. Feeling Jimmy’s heat. 

“Don’t argue,” Jimmy muttered.

“Didn’t say anything,” he said, and his eyes fluttered open. Taking in the early morning light and his mind instantly marking the hour. “You might want to hurry up.” 

“I’m in no hurry.”

“For once,” Thomas chuckled and leaned up on his elbows to look back at Jimmy. “We don’t have much time… only an hour or so.”

Jimmy met his eyes but shook his head. He lowered his face down to Thomas’ lower back and kissed his way down toward his arse. Thomas' eyes fell closed again, and he felt Jimmy push his legs apart to settle himself between them, his mouth on his arse and sighed into the pillow. Feeling lips and a bit of teeth — until the teeth felt just a bit too sharp and he jolted at the sensation, and he heard Jimmy take in a harsh breathe. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy sounded scared, and Thomas felt fingertips touch skin and felt another jolt from increased sensitivity. And he stiffened all his muscles locked, and he closed his eyes and buried his head into the pillow. 

Fingers traced a wobbly circle, he felt the press of Jimmy’s fingertips and a kiss. Then Jimmy was sliding up his body and pushing at Thomas and moving him, making room for himself and Jimmy was next to him, forcing him to look right at him but his hand on was against the sensitive skin on his buttock. “Thomas… that’s… those are needle marks.” 

He nodded. 

Jimmy frowned and rubbed it with his thumb, so much he touched Thomas’ other scars, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. He looked worried and scared as he leaned his forehead against Thomas’. “Drugs?” 

“No,” Thomas shook his. “It wasn’t… like that.”

“What?”

“Wasn’t medicine at all,” Thomas sighed, and he wished he could look away from him but Jimmy’s eyes were boring into him, seeing inside of him and he couldn’t escape the look of concern, the genuine worry, and concern. He saw love, and he wondered if he spoke up if he’d still have it. 

“Please?” Jimmy whispered. 

“I wanted to forget you,” Thomas’ voice broke. “I wanted to forget you.” 

“You said it wasn’t drugs….” Jimmy shook his head. 

“It wasn’t. I was… you’d left Jimmy. You’d left, and I had nothing. I had no one. I was alone, and I couldn’t forget you, but I had too, I needed to forget you because I missed you. I missed you, and it hurt, it physically hurt because I was lonely. I was alone. I never felt… I knew what it was to be lonely, but I was alone. I was nothing.” 

“No,” Jimmy argued. “No.”

“I thought… I had to forget you. I had to forget you, but the only way to do was to not want you, not love you. Don’t you see? I couldn’t love you, I had to stop. I had to stop and forget you. So, I had to change.” 

“Change?” Jimmy stroked Thomas hair, fingers through it, petting him. “Is this… this is what she was talking about.”

“Baxter,” Thomas nodded. 

“What did you do?”

“Got taken for a mug,” Thomas whispered. “Nearly died…” 

“Thomas,” Jimmy moved closer. “You can tell me.”

“Choose Your Own Path,” Thomas’s voice was a croak. 

“What?”

“It was an advertisement. It said they could help me change. To stop. To be like other men. If I was like other men, I wouldn’t miss you, I wouldn’t be lonely, I wouldn’t be broken.” 

“They gave you drugs?”

Thomas laughed, but he shuddered at the memories. “There was shock therapy… just made me muddled.” 

“What!” Jimmy shouted it and nearly fell off the bed having jolted backward. But he lunged back toward Thomas, shaking his head. “No.”

Thomas nodded and fell quiet. 

Jimmy kissed his face, his cheeks, his mouth and muttered no. 

Thomas gripped hold of him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

“For what?”

“I wanted to forget you. I did the therapy. It injected myself with… it was supposed to be medicine, it was supposed to help me change, but it was just saline, but it wasn’t sterile.” 

Jimmy’s hand was on the scarred skin again and shook his head. “No. It’s me. I should be sorry…” 

“I wanted to forget you,” Thomas repeated. “I kept injecting it, and I felt different but because I was sick. Because it hurt, my skin was so red, but the pain was…. A distraction. I lied to myself as I injected more, said I was forgetting you because all I felt was sick and like my insides wanted to fall out. Told myself it meant it was working. But it wasn’t. I was still alone and cold. I was cold but sweating. I was ill but was ignoring it. Miss Baxter… she wouldn’t stop asking me what was wrong and I was a bastard but she…” 

“Thomas.”

“I was dying, and I kept trying to change. But every damn night I dreamed of you. The fever made them worse. It was all so vivid and surreal. And you told me to trust her…” Thomas laughed. 

“Good,” Jimmy said, and he sounded angry. “Good.” 

“She saved me…” 

“Good.” Jimmy kissed him. 

Thomas whined into it and gripped onto Jimmy. “I was so alone.” 

“No,” Jimmy shook his head. “You had her.”

“Wasn’t enough…” Thomas sighed. “I’ve always known what I was but when you left… I hated that being what I was made me feel so empty. I thought… if I changed maybe the hole inside wouldn’t threaten to swallow me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered. “I’m sorry.” 

Thomas nodded and pulled away from him to roll onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling his head was pounding, a throbbing ache in his temples. He inhaled and realized his breathing was shaky. The words come out easier than he thought they would — maybe because he’d been saying them in his head since he saw Jimmy at The Phoenix. But he was overwhelmed, he was feeling it all again — all that pain, the loneliness and wishing he’d never met Jimmy Kent. It felt like betrayal now with the man right next to him, because how could have wanted to forget him — the pain, the pain wasn’t enough to wish him out of existence. It felt like the answer then, but he already learned it wasn’t — 

“You’re back,” Thomas whispered. 

Jimmy moved next to him, as flush as he could get without climbing on or under Thomas. He felt eyes on his profile and could hear him breathing. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed in touch…”

“No,” Thomas snapped. “It’s…. We’ve covered that. It’s forgiven.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Because… I don’t think I would’ve handled a letter well. If you’d written while I was… if you’d written when I was hell bent on forgetting you. Trying to will myself into pretending you never mattered… I wouldn’t have handled it well. I wanted it to work, I wanted it to work so much I nearly killed myself.” 

“Thomas…”

Thomas smiled because there was something beautiful about his name on Jimmy’s tongue. “I’m saying it wouldn’t have stopped me.” 

“What did?”

“You,” Thomas laughed because he sounded mad. He’d told Jimmy a letter wouldn’t have helped. He knew it to be true, but the truth was Jimmy saved him. “And Baxter.”

“I’m lost.”

“I…” Thomas sighed. “I used to dream of you. All the time, every night. Always…” he blushed. “When you left they turned to nightmares. They were painful, and I wanted them to stop. But they wouldn’t and the fever, the way the infection messed with my head. You started yelling at me in my dreams. Things I’ve always thought, things I always just knew…” Thomas trailed off. 

“What?”

“That there is nothing wrong with me… that I wasn’t foul. That I wasn’t twisted — that it wasn’t a cross a bear. That it isn’t sinful and it isn’t unnatural. All the things opposite of their damn therapy and stupid meditations they’d given me. Your voice took over from the voice that was my own… reminding me that no one is better than me.” 

“I would’ve said that… I would’ve said all of that if I knew.”

Thomas wiped at the tears on his face.

“You’re the bravest man, I know,” Jimmy said. 

“No…”

“Yes. It was…. You inspired me to finally stop hiding. It was you. You saved me from a life of lies.” Jimmy moved, so he was over Thomas. He looked down at his face and put all his weight on his right hand, to wiped at the tears on Thomas’ cheek with is left. “You never should’ve felt that alone.”

Thomas hiccuped and thought he should look away from Jimmy but he couldn’t — despite feeling like a raw nerve, despite not knowing what to say or do next. He never. He never thought he speak about what happened, what he tried…because it’d failed. It’d been foolish and a failure. 

“I felt alone….” He whispered.

“You aren’t now,” Jimmy said and kissed him chastely. 

Thomas reached up and grabbed his face. He kissed him, leaning up into it and putting things he couldn’t say into the kiss. The weight that felt lifted off of him now that Jimmy knew about it. He knew about it, and he wasn’t running — and it proved it. It proved to Thomas he been right to forgive him. To believe him and he felt Jimmy hum as the two of the deepened the kiss. In tandem and Thomas’ heart pounded hard in his chest. 

They broke apart to breathe, and Jimmy caressed his cheek and whispered, “I love your scars.” 

Thomas grabbed his face again, more of the weight lifting off him. The press of loneliness and loss of hope fully leaving. There was more to tell, more story and pain. But he believed he had the time to tell him…. 

Jimmy loved him.


	14. Chapter 14

The good thing about life in service was that it was a ritual. It was well-choreographed dance. Every day started the same and ended the same. Of course, there were differences and crises. But nothing ever threw Thomas, he prided himself on being able to adapt and anticipate. He’d once bragged to Philip that he could do his job to perfection in his sleep — and years ago he learned it hadn’t been false pride. 

He ran a finger under his collar and wished he could loosen. He felt clammy and cold. His stomach kept lurching. He almost felt as terrible as he’d felt years ago when he’d been injecting himself with the tainted saline. He huffed out a breath and wished he could get it out of his head. But he couldn’t because Jimmy found his scars. He told himself he never speak about it, he’d pretend it never happened. It was embarrassing, it was painful, it’d been foolish. It was best forgotten and the whispers of doubt from that time faded to near silence — except when they didn’t….

But that wasn’t the point. He paused as he walked into the kitchen and reminded himself to breathe. He took in the scene before him and Mrs. Patmore and Daisy talking to each other, their words sharp but the meaning soft. He nodded to see everything was in hand — there would be no dinner service tonight as the Crawleys were dining with friends. He felt grateful for that because he wasn’t so sure he could stand straight much longer — it felt there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

“Mr. Barrow?” Miss Baxter was suddenly in front of him.

“Miss Baxter,” he said feeling a surge of irritation at her. She should’ve kept her mouth shut and not mention anything to Jimmy. It was his story to tell — and he hadn’t wanted to tell it. His neck hurt and he felt like he wanted to shed his skin. 

“Are you all right?”

More irritation spiked up his spine, and his blood seemed to rush faster. “I’m quite fine.”

“Things are going well with Mr. Kent?”

“Mr. Kent?” Thomas laughed and shook his head. But his heart turned and he felt a sudden sunny warmth. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it before the memories of the morning crashed back to the forefront of his mind. “It’s complicated…” he muttered.

“I do hope it works out for the best…. For you,” she said.

He sighed his annoyance with her lessening. She was his friend, a dear friend and maybe his only true friend. He and Jimmy’s friendship was always odd and strange. Something about it couldn’t be true friendship. Not with the way, Thomas felt about him — and maybe it turned out it was because of how Jimmy felt about him. 

“I know you don’t like a fuss…” she chuckled. 

Thomas blushed and nodded. The truth was he didn’t know what to do with people fussing over him — caring about him enough to feel protective. It was strange and new feeling to him. And he was certain it was one he never get used to and sometimes he fell back on old habits and tried to push people away. 

“Jimmy and…. I.” His breath hitched at the phrasing. _Jimmy and I._ It was a truth, and he felt it shudder through him and he started smiling. “We’re talking…” he finished, faltering to find the right wording because he wasn’t sure there were words for what was happening between the two of them.  
Miss Baxter nodded as she looked at him. He felt her studying his face, and she started nodding but frowned. “It’s just you’ve seemed distracted all day.” 

“I am,” he admitted. “But it’s not…” he flailed for a word again and shook his head. “We’re being honest, and well the truth can hurt.”

“I see… be careful.”

He sighed again. “I’m not made of glass.”

She gave him a fond look and shook her head. “That’s the last thing I’d think about you, Mr. Barrow.”

He blinked as she walked away not at all sure how to take that… He focused back on the kitchen and why it was he come into it. His mind back on his job and he tried to show he felt a bit like a cracked shell. He never meant to utter any of the things he told Jimmy out loud — and he could hear his own voice, sounding broken, echoing in his head. Saying the things he kept locked away in a box in his mind for a long time. 

He went through the motions with Mrs. Patmore and then started up the stairs. His day wasn’t over, but he and Jimmy decided to meet outside on the grounds before the sunset for the day. Thomas suggested it, his mind somehow hoping that being outside without any walls meant he wouldn’t feel trapped and vulnerable around Jimmy. He feared seeing him again because of the conversation that weighed heavily between them. Thomas cried, and Jimmy kissed the tears. Thomas felt like a coward and Jimmy called him brave. It was daft, and he felt certain Jimmy would realize that in their time apart. 

Thomas felt clammy again as he entered his room. It was a relief to pull off his tie and his starched collar. He breathed harshly and thought about how Jimmy held him, wrapped around him and let him cry. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t want to be with Thomas, not after learning what Thomas had done to try to forget him. To shove him out his heart and out of his mind. What a foolish thing, Thomas thought. Jimmy owned his soul. 

But did he own Jimmy’s? 

Mortification and worry attacked him, and he found himself having trouble breathing. “He was perfect,” he told himself again, trying to calm himself down. Because Jimmy’s reactions had been perfect, it was the only reason Thomas been able to tell him the whole tale. Jimmy listened and touched him. Jimmy whispered things Thomas loved to hear despite not believing at all was an inspiration. Jimmy kept saying all the right things — what he wanted to hear. It felt true. Thomas whispered agonizing bits and pieces to him about that time in his past — where he tried to run from what he was… 

It was a lot to take. Thomas felt his insides lurch again, remembering his physical pain and how it barely hurt compared to his broken heart. It was too good to be true, he was back to that again. And maybe it was too much for Jimmy to take it, he must be past his initial shock at what Thomas revealed. What if Jimmy ended up thinking it was too much, that he was too broken?

~~~

He could shake the nervousness about seeing Jimmy. Too many doubts and worries swirling in his head along with the bad memories. He felt uncomfortable in his suit and loosened his tie as he stepped outside. The air was cool, and as a breeze brushed over his skin, he felt a sense of relief. He breathed in the air and it was easier. If not perfect. He started heading off toward the bench on the grounds they’d agreed to meet at — if Jimmy came. 

It was a fear that clung to him. What he left again? What if he just disappeared again with no word. He was saying the right things, and his excuses for not writing were — annoying. But his excuses also made sense to Thomas and when he looked in Jimmy’s eyes believed the lack of connecting wasn’t about not wanting to be connected to him. It was about Jimmy’s headspace at the time. It was about Jimmy’s short-comings and not his own…. 

They were both far from perfect but wasn’t that what drawn him to Jimmy in the first place. He was like Thomas and never quite fit. Jimmy just could pretend to fit, and he did a good job of it — but Thomas knew. Thomas always knew he was a bit apart from everyone else, like him. They were a pair. His heart lurched with hope but the fear Jimmy might vanish again kept twisting around the good. 

Until he saw him and he felt like a fool. Relief punched him in his gut, and he breathed in deep lungs of the cool air and felt like he was on solid ground for the first time all day. Jimmy was a few feet ahead of him, throwing a stick to Tiaa and laughing at the dog's antics as she went over it and finally brought it back to him. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and his hair was ruffled messy by the wind and he grinning and seemed as golden as the slowly setting sun was in the sky. He turned toward Thomas as if he sensed him — and maybe he did. His grin widened even more and much to Tiaa’s dislike he dropped the stick he was holding instead of throwing it. 

Jimmy walked toward him and Thomas watched every step he took. Their eyes locked and it was like something wrapped around them, and they were the only two people on the earth. Thomas started walking forward because it would take too long to be in Jimmy’s orbit if he didn’t, and then they were face to face and Jimmy reached and grabbed his gloved hand. 

Neither of them spoke, and Jimmy swayed forward, as if he was going to kiss Thomas, but he leaned back his eyes darting around them. They couldn’t in such an open space and bitterness rushed through Thomas at the fact. He gripped Jimmy’s hand tightly, as if angry he pulled back but it wasn’t angry at him. Jimmy's eyes flashed, and he nodded subtly. They both felt it. 

Thomas felt Jimmy tug at him, and he pulled him toward the bench and then they were sat on it, side by side, their left, and right sides touching from the shoulders to their thighs. Thomas leaned into it and felt it again — he was on solid ground. It wasn’t stopping his nerves, and he was amazed at how easy it was to look Jimmy in the eye. But all he saw was happiness, and maybe it was tinged with concern, but it didn’t feel like pity. There was no judgment, and Thomas couldn’t remember when he'd ever seen judgment in Jimmy’s stare… 

Maybe before the fair but that was a lifetime ago, and it was a part of their history that was firmly in the past — it’d been since the moment Jimmy agreed to become friends. Thomas swallowed and looked away from Jimmy because he didn’t know how to speak. What to say? It felt false to ignore the truths that had been revealed that morning. They couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, not even for a second, not even for hellos…

Jimmy leaned into him. “I have questions,” he said his voice low. 

Thomas sighed.

“We have too…” Jimmy whispered, and Thomas felt it again. They were on the same page, they both felt it and were together. Together. He breathed easier again. Maybe if it kept up, he would remember how to breathe without thought. 

“I know.”

“I don’t even know what the questions are,” Jimmy laughed. “I just have them.”

Thomas chuckled, and they turned a bit toward each other, both wanting more direct eye contact. Jimmy reached up and started fixing Thomas’ tie and shook his head. “This isn’t you…” he muttered until the tie was perfect.

“Couldn’t breathe…”

Jimmy frowned. “Are now?”

“Yeah…” Thomas nodded. “I was… it was like I was feeling the effects of the infection again. All day. It was almost too real.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t…”

“I dredged it up for you…” Jimmy sighed. 

“You needed to know,” Thomas’ voice cracked. “I don’t want to hide things.”

“Good…not into hiding things anymore. It’s hard too once you stop…” he grinned at Thomas.

Thomas found himself smiling in return. 

“You don’t…” Jimmy grabbed Thomas hand again and squeezed it like he was seeking comfort. “I mean. You don’t want to change what you are…”

“No,” Thomas said his voice solid and absolute. “Never. Never…it was never an option. And I never wanted it to be, despite so much hate and worse…” 

“Your father…” Jimmy muttered darkly because there were secrets of Thomas’ he already carried. 

It made Thomas’ trust in him grow. “My head, I wasn’t myself — I missed you. I couldn’t breathe, the days were…. Agony.”

“This is before?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas nodded. “I wanted to forget you. I wanted to cleanse you from my mind and pretend you never existed. I was angry and bitter. I’d finally found someone…maybe you hadn’t loved me how I wished, but you were…”

“I’m…”

Thomas put his fingers over Jimmy’s mouth and shook his head. He didn’t want to hear that all that time Jimmy felt more. He loved knowing it now but then… Then what he didn’t know was what mattered. “I know,” he whispered.

Jimmy nodded. 

“I wanted you out from under my skin and felt like… You were only there because I wanted you because I loved you. If I could stop that, I would be able to forget you. I had to change, I had to be like other men…” Thomas laughed bitterly. “Heartache can twist you up.”

Jimmy squeezed his hand but kept his mouth shut, but Thomas saw the guilt on his face and in his eyes. In the way, his body was swaying closer, and he was happy for it. Jimmy deserved to feel guilty, and it was doing Thomas heart good that he was… but he didn’t want pity, and he didn’t want Jimmy being nice out of regret. He just wanted now… If they had a now?

“How… how did you get past it?”

“Miss Baxter…” Thomas shook his head. “I was horrible to her, it’s a long story, but I got her in trouble with the Bates’ and the police.”

“About her stealing?”

“Yes… it was… wrong,” Thomas laughed. “But I was bitter, more so than any other time in my life. I was ill, I was burning up, and I could barely stand straight, but I couldn’t shirk my duties, I couldn’t ask Carson if I could have a lie in — everything was supposed to be normal. She… despite it all, she kept asking after me. Wanting to help me. She found the advertisement for the program, she realized what I was doing…”

“Oh.”

“And it wasn’t working… like I said I kept dreaming about you, you wouldn’t leave my mind, and you were — me. The real me, the one who never thought I was wrong.”

“So, you took her up on her offer?”

Thomas nodded. “And she brought me to Clarkson. I knew I needed to go, but… I couldn’t do it on my own.”

“He helped you?”

“Physically,” Thomas hissed. “He’s useless for anything else.” Edward’s gentle face flashing in his mind.

“So how did you…”

“Miss Baxter called me brave,” Thomas shook his head. “And I remembered you doing the same…” 

“You are.”

“I’m not… but it helped me remember who I am, who we were — the good parts. I don’t know, I missed you still — physically in my bones. But it got easier, and she was — a friend. Somehow, I found another friend, and it was simpler. It is simpler with her. Obviously.”

“We weren’t just friends… daft weren’t we, not seeing it?” 

Thomas nodded. 

Jimmy’s hand circled his wrist, thumb finding the scar. “What about this?”

Thomas tensed and shook his head. “No. Not yet…the other thing it was connected to you, you needed to know but…” 

“I need to know,” Jimmy whispered. 

“Not yet, Jimmy.”

He frowned but after a beat nodded. His thumb kept stroking the scar, though and Thomas leaned into him because there was a comfort in it. A comfort he thought he never feel in his life — it was a wonder he recognized it but he did, and it was addicting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, December is the month last year I decided to watch Downton Abbey on Amazon Prime. Which means it’s the month I fell in love with Thomas Barrow himself. Wanna do something to celebrate it, probably for Christmas… So Christmas fic… Anything you guys would like to see with him and Jimmy? Drop me an idea, thought, prompt whatever <3 
> 
>  
> 
> [ Link to tumblr post ](http://raelee514.tumblr.com/post/167176628080/so-december-is-the-month-last-year-i-decided-to)


	15. Chapter 15

Jimmy was leaving. The thought refused to stop threatening Thomas’. Flashes of their last goodbye, one that he believed for years was final. It was the end of the chapter of his life entitled Thomas and Jimmy. It was an end and it had ruined him. He’d become a shell. He became a man who lived he motions and felt there was nothing left that was good. Not for him. The best he could hope was not lose his home —

And he almost had. 

Thomas paused on the stairs and touched the railing. Downton Abbey was his happy ever after, and it was a good one. He believed that and it’d given him a bit of light and hope. He felt safer with the people within it too, more understanding, more willing to try to get along. But it hadn’t been… 

Life. 

Jimmy Kent was the sun, and he made Thomas come alive. It was the true the first time he waltzed into his life. It was truer now because when their eyes met the crackle of intense connection Thomas always felt — was known to be mutual. Jimmy would reach out and touch him, stroke his cheek and kiss his scars. All of them. Thomas was obsessed with Jimmy’s obsession with his scars. The strokes and the kisses. The sighs and the murmured _love yous_ into the pores of the damaged skin. 

He was sewing Thomas back together. 

Because he had been ripped apart. 

And he never healed. He knew it. He pretended he healed, and everyone around him pretended as well — but it was there, that unspoken thing that maybe Thomas might fall apart again. And he was feeling like that fragile veil was dissipating. Because of Jimmy. 

But he was leaving. Thomas told himself over and over that he was leaving Downton and not him. Thomas repeated it to himself over and over as he went about his day. _He’s leaving Downton. Not you._ But it felt like a lie. He kept remembering their last goodbye, and the hole left behind. That hole nearly killed him, and it was in danger of being dug out of him again — 

It’d be bigger this time because he knew what he was missing. It was no longer fantasies of fiction. No, he’d tasted Jimmy, he stroked him and touched him. He whispered his affection into the skin of his neck and kissed those plush lips until they were red and swollen. _He’s leaving Downton. Not you._

Thomas used the memories of their lovemaking to distract himself from the soon to arrive departure. They were both a balm and a curse he thought. It showed him Jimmy loved him. Because how he stretched him out and filled him up wasn’t about passion — though they were both wild with it. It was soft, and it was soppy, and Jimmy whispered things Thomas never would’ve put his mouth — all his fantasies turned to pale fictions.

_He’s not leaving you._

But fear and memory were against Thomas. The threat was there, and he kept seeing Jimmy climbing onto the wagon and the hearing the clopping of the horse’s hooves against the mud. He remembered watching Jimmy roll away from him, not looking back. He could hear the crack that happened in his heart, and he knew that crack wasn’t healed. It wasn’t possible for it to fill up, not even with how much he believed Jimmy when he gazed into his eyes and swore that he loved Thomas. 

He believed him. He saw it. But what about when Jimmy wasn’t there. When they weren’t alone. When they weren’t in bed. When they were in two different places, miles and miles apart. Would it remain real? Years of nothing, no words and all Thomas had was memories that faded even though Thomas fought to keep them sharp. 

Jimmy would leave again, and even he admitted that he still fought his worse qualities. All his reasons and thoughts about his not writing, his own fears, his own flaws. He might forget again, he might come up with excuses not to write — He might not come back for Thomas. And all of this was a beautiful, perfect and horrible dream that would turn nightmare. 

_He’s leaving Downton. Not you._

Thomas sat down at his desk with a sigh. Because he felt happy. He felt like all the rips and tears in his soul were mending. All because of Jimmy’s attentions and that look in his eyes. They were a blue Thomas couldn’t describe when he whispered to Thomas that he loved him. Thomas believed him. 

Until he didn’t. 

He felt torn in two directions, and he wasn’t sure which one was going to win, and all he could think was that he’d be ripped again and have new frayed edges and wasn’t he supposed to be mending? He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t want the day to end. Even though it meant he would see Jimmy again. Be with him again. Touch him and be touched by him again. One more night in a bed, together, how they were meant to be… 

But then he would leave. 

He would leave. 

How could he bear it? He hadn’t survived it before, not really. 

The door to his office creaked open, and he looked and saw Baxter in the doorway. She was looking at him kindly — too kindly. He felt a spike of irritation the kind he was learning to push away and not act on. He did so, but it felt harder like it was a newer habit again and he blamed Jimmy for it. Which was maybe unfair but he felt as broken apart by Jimmy as he felt put back together… 

Why were emotions always such a tumult, he wondered and knew it was his curse to bear. He felt things too much, too deeply and it was why he built so many walls and a coating of bitterness. He smiled though as Baxter sat down across from him and gave him one of her timid smiles. She was braver than she knew, he thought and waited to see what she had to say. 

“He’s leaving tomorrow?”

“First train out… before sunrise,” Thomas said, and he heard his fear in his voice. 

“For how long?”

“He doesn’t know….” Thomas muttered and wasn’t that the problem. 

“Well, he’s been here quite some time, his job…”

“Isn’t in danger…” Thomas couldn’t stop the grin. “You know how he is when he performs, it’s given him a cushion.” 

“He is quite charismatic,” she nodded. “As are you.”

“Me?” Thomas laughed. “I can’t sing.”

“Not what I meant,” she said. “It’s just… the two of you are hard to look away from. Something I’ve noticed. But he’ll be back, is what I mean to say.” 

“I…” he wanted to say he knew that, without a doubt, a part of him felt it. He felt it, and it warmed him but doubt was licking at its heels, and he looked away from Baxter. 

“I was worried, I won’t lie.”

“I noticed,” Thomas said.

“But the last few days… When you two are together and how he speaks about you… He’s coming back, Thomas.” 

Thomas nodded and focused on the belief in it he felt in his heart. But fear kicked him, and he pinned her with a look. “I just…”

“Trust him,” Baxter said. 

Thomas laughed, and he wanted to, he wanted to so deeply that he could taste it on his tongue and hear it in the beating of his heart. And he did in his own way, he trusted Jimmy because he let him in. More than he even knew he could — Jimmy knew parts of him from the inside out, and it was trust but… 

“Rarely am given what I want,” he whispered to Baxter. 

“Maybe this time you do,” she said with a soft smile.

~~~

The first time he saw Jimmy Kent it was like his heart stopped in his chest for a second and the world turned brighter. His whole life changed while his day to day steadfastly remained the same. And it’d taken Thomas a long time to realize what it was — at first, he thought it was a mere attraction. But Jimmy kept knocking him sideways and long after the ill-advised kiss and the day at the fair, Thomas known he stumbled into what love was.

And it wasn’t easy, but he was romantic anyway and marveled at his idiocy sometimes. He was spinning between fear and belief, Baxter’s kind words helping him focus on the belief. But, again, it wasn't easy. 

But then he saw Jimmy. Walking down the hallway, his hat in his hands and he looked like belonged. He always looked like he belonged, wherever he was Jimmy always looked at home there and sure of himself. Sometimes shy but never hiding. He was too egotistical for that, and Thomas smiled at the thought. And he smiled at the sight of him because he was being knocked sideways again and his heart stopped and started. How could always feel like the first time? How was it always so shifting and amazing. And frightening? He was utterly in love and yet he felt the fear of it growing.

Because he could trust Jimmy. 

“Am I too early?” Jimmy asked stopping mere inches from Thomas. It was too close, they should move apart, Thomas thought, his eyes on the others in the servant’s hall. But he stayed where he was and Jimmy did as well — after darting his eyes around the room himself. 

“A bit,” Thomas sighed. “I have the clocks.”

“You do the clocks?” Jimmy laughed.

Thomas leaned closer to him to whisper. “I don’t trust the hall boys, and they’re all I have.”

“Carson would have a fit,” Jimmy laughed.

“I know, makes me enjoy it all the more,” Thomas smirked.

“I’ll come with you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, for old time’s sake…” he winked. 

Thomas chuckled and started walking toward the stairs. He heard Jimmy behind him. And they walked up the stairs in comfortable silence. They were too close again, but the thought of causing a distance made Thomas ache, so he allowed their arms to brush against the others as they rose up the staircase and they glanced at the other with knowing smiles. 

“I…” Jimmy said suddenly, just as Thomas was about to open the door that into the main part of the Abbey.

Thomas paused and looked at him. 

“I just…” Jimmy sighed. “I was going to say this later, but…” 

“What?”

“I love you,” Jimmy said and then laughed. “That’s not it, you just…you’re cute.” 

Thomas blushed but frowned. “Cute?”

“Handsome,” Jimmy clarified with a smirk. “Sorry, was distracted. I just… I’m not leaving you.”

Tears appeared in Thomas' eyes and he wished they weren’t there and he looked away from Jimmy and felt the weight of the doubt simply vanish. He knew, and Thomas thought maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him. But he was, and he looked up and met worried eyes. He met them and nodded, feeling thankful in a way he couldn’t express. 

“I don’t want to leave Downton… I just…” Jimmy sighed. “I wish…”

“What?”

“That it wasn’t complicated,” Jimmy said. 

“What?”

“Our lives… I’m in London and you're here. It’s… complicated.” 

The weight was back and fear threatened. Thomas reached out and grabbed Jimmy’s hand, threaded their fingers and gripped on tightly, probably too tightly but he needed to touch him. Hold him. He stared at their linked hands and felt gratified at how well their hands fit together. He rose Jimmy’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Tasting him and letting that ground him further. Jimmy shuffled even closer, and Thomas let out a sigh as he looked up and into Jimmy’s impossible blue eyes. 

“I keep telling myself it’s not me your leaving,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“I know…” Thomas sighed. “But it is complicated.”

“Maybe but…” Jimmy looked around them and then he was pressing forward, his mouth against Thomas' cheek, pressing a kiss against his skin and into his cheekbone. Then he whispered into his ear. “We’ll find our way, promise.”


	16. Chapter 16

“We’ll find our way, promise.” He smiled. They were close enough he felt Thomas shiver at Jimmy’s breath against his ear. He wanted to reach out and grab him by his lapels and kiss him. It was an itch underneath his skin and it was beating in his chest. He wanted to touch him and prove his words. Because he believed them. They were going to make this work because he promised himself if he found himself back in Thomas Barrow's life he wasn’t going to waste another second. Because he wasted too many, he wasted years and he hurt them both — but he hurt Thomas the most. He hurt him and fear was bile in the back of his throat. Of failing him. Of letting it slip through his fingers, and he felt like he should shout at himself to not mess it up. 

He couldn’t grab Thomas by his lapels — at least not yet. He saw Thomas reaching for the doorknob to take them into the Abbey and he reached out and grabbed his hand. A touch he could risk, and his thumb immediately found the scar on his wrist, that he hid under his cuffs. It was muscle memory, already, he felt like it’s where his thumb belonged, rubbing it, soothing it. Jimmy wished he knew more because a piece of him kept finding it unbelievable, his heart hammered in his ears and told him Thomas was brave. And he saw it in Thomas’ eyes when he spoke about his struggles. 

The bravery it took to stay standing. To breathe. 

He broke him, and he survived but something else knocked him down, and Jimmy wanted to know the story. But he couldn’t push, but he could touch the scars he found on Thomas’ body and try to soothe out any residual pain and he would until he saw none of it in his eyes. He wanted to look into clear gray eyes and know Thomas knew he was safe. Jimmy wanted to be his safety, and it terrified him. He gripped Thomas hand, for himself then and he nodded again. “I mean it.” 

Thomas met his gaze and gave him a soft smile and Jimmy felt suddenly like his feet were on more solid ground. He returned it and fought against the impulse to kiss him and dropped his hand before he yanked Thomas into his arms. 

“The clocks then,” he said with smirk.

“The clocks,” Thomas laughed. 

“Let me wind one?” Jimmy asked as they headed toward the one in the main hall. 

“No.”

“Why?”

“You almost always overwound them…” Thomas muttered and shook his head. 

“Yeah, I know… did on purpose didn’t I?” Jimmy chuckled.

“What?” Thomas spun around and pinned his expression shocked. 

Jimmy laughed. “It was the only time you touched me.” 

“But…”

“I told you, I was lying to myself, but I was… I mean, I am me, Thomas. I wanted your attention, and if I had to tell you I needed help with a clock, I got your very focused attention.” 

“You could have bloody broken the clocks!” Thomas hissed at him, and he looked so utterly appalled Jimmy started laughing. “It’s not funny.” 

“Hmm… the one you thing you put above me is clocks, then, innit?” Jimmy smirked at him. 

Thomas glared at him but it slowly softened into a smile, his cheeks redder again and a bit of awe in his in eyes. “How didn’t I notice you not minding me touching you, you always seemed so impatient.” 

“Well, was fighting myself wasn’t I… wanted it and didn’t,” Jimmy shook his head. “Didn’t realize what I was doing until I was gone. Like a lot of things. A friend told me hindsight is a bastard, and she was right.”

“She?” Thomas asked his eyes narrowing.

“Told you, I had guides. Friends.” 

Thomas' eyes stayed narrowed, and his shoulders stiffened. “I suppose you did…” he turned around and opened the clock’s face and started to wind it.” 

Jimmy felt punched by Thomas pain. The loneliness. He left him. Without friends. It didn’t matter now, it seemed he had the staff on his side when Jimmy left he left him on his own. He was a fool and an arsehole for not writing. He always known it but now he was seeing the consequences of his failing. It was in the sad and haunted looks Thomas tried to hide from him. Tried to shove behind his mask. But Jimmy had learned to see through Thomas’ masks a long time ago, and it was a skill he retained. He swallowed an apology because he said it, he said it more than once, and he was sure he would say it again. But now didn’t feel like the time for another attempt to show how regretful he felt. It felt more important to remind Thomas of the good and not dwell on any of the bad. 

They couldn’t ignore the bad forever. But the could for now. For now, it was all about their second chance. His second chance and he was going to prove to Thomas that he was worthy of it. Even if he was petrified, he wasn’t. It was a fear he felt bubbling under his skin. It burned in his blood and he felt hot and uncomfortable, and all he wanted to do was pull Thomas into his arms. 

And he couldn’t. Yet. 

“So, after you finish the clocks… we walk to the inn?” 

“Yes,” Thomas said, and he was already closing the clock. “It’s…” he looked around and sighed. “Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes think I’m daft, but yes, we’ll go to the inn. You can’t stay here tonight and get to the station on time and…” Thomas lurched a step closer to him and reached out his hand. Their fingers tips brushed, and Thomas sighed. “It’s a risk.” 

“You're worth it.” 

“Jimmy…”

“No one is going to notice. We’ll be chatting, and then you’ll take me to the station.” 

“I should warn you, I’m a horrible driver.”

Jimmy’s mouth twitched. “I’m not.” 

“Maybe I’ll let you drive then.” 

“I’d like that,” Jimmy grinned and tangled their fingers. 

Thomas gripped his hand for the briefest of seconds before letting go. “Library next.” 

“Ah, the temperamental one.” 

“She is not temperamental, just needs a firm hand.” 

“She?” Jimmy felt a wave of fondness. Thomas love of clocks and seeing personalities within them was always something he found incredibly endearing. It was a crack in the armor that show his sentimentality and his romantic soul. Jimmy knew he was lucky to be given that glimpse, to know that nugget of truth and he hated himself for taken it for granted. For not giving back something back to Thomas. He wasn’t ready then but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, and it didn’t stop him from realizing how lucky he was… 

His fantasies about how his reunion with Thomas felt like silly children’s stories to him now. He'd been naive and he wondered how he could have been so monumentally simple-minded. 

He looked around the library as the walked into it and was reminded it was his favorite room in the house. His eyes fell covetously on the piano in the corner. He only heard Lady Edith play it once or twice in his time at Downton and with her a Marchioness now he wondered if it was played at all. 

“Miss Sybbie is taking lessons,” Thomas said. 

Jimmy looked from the piano and to him and saw the smile that made his stomach dip. He knew, he knew what he was thinking and wasn’t that the point of it all. Wasn’t it that made him realize far to late the treasure he’d found. They knew each other, somehow, easily and certainly. Their friendship had been the easiest friendship of Jimmy’s life. He cursed his fear, he cursed his cowardice and reminded himself that he could be brave if he tried. He learned how… 

For Thomas. 

“Is she good?”

“She’s awful,” Thomas chuckled, but he was smiling. “But she keeps trying… She’s not a quitter. Like her mother.” 

“You sound proud,” Jimmy grinned not at all surprised. 

“I suppose I am, quite proud,” Thomas nodded and turned toward the clock. 

Jimmy was about to ask about Miss Sybbie, as well as Master George, and the newer arrival — he heard Lady Mary had her first child with her second husband. But footsteps made both men freeze and then his Lordship’s voice carried ahead of him. 

“Ah, Barrow, good I was hoping to catch you…” Robert Crawley stopped mid-sentence as he came upon the two of them standing by the library’s grandfather’s clock. His eyes fell on Jimmy and Jimmy held his breath and hoped the man wouldn’t be able to place him at all. After all, he’d just been a footman. But distaste flickered on the man’s face before his good nature, and his class hid it well, but he shot Thomas a disappointed look. And Jimmy tried not to let that bother him, but he found it did because Thomas didn’t deserve it. 

“What is this?” his Lordship asked. 

“I’m sure you remember James Kent, your Lordship. He’s just returned from a traveling to America and came back to visit the staff. What’s left of it.” 

“I see,” his Lordship said. “I wasn’t aware the two of you were close.”

Jimmy almost laughed at that because of course, they were close. But his Lordship wasn’t privy to the way they’d gone from enemies to friends. He probably always thought what happened between them that night was something that remained between them. That Jimmy would've kept himself away from someone like Thomas. Given the way his tenure at Downton had ended with him in Lady Anstruther’s bed, his Lordship knew the Jimmy Kent that he always intended people to see. The charmer, the ladies man and someone who didn’t care about anyone but himself. 

That last part was rather true. 

“If you must know, your Lordship, James and I were best mates by the time he left Downton.” 

His Lordship looked surprised, and his eyes darted between them and for a brief second Jimmy thought he saw something flicker in them that wasn’t disdain or shock. Robert Crawley was a good man, Jimmy remembered that and seemed far kinder and more forgiving than most men with his title and position. “Well, what I wished to discuss can wait until tomorrow, Barrow. I do hope you have a good visit… Leaving soon?”

Jimmy almost laughed because he knew he couldn’t expect the man to see past what Jimmy had done under his roof with one of his guests. Crossing the lines between the classes. It was the worst of sins. At least to a man like his Lordship. 

“He leaves tonight,” Thomas said, and he looked between them his face showing his nerves. “But he may come back to visit.” 

His Lordship looked between them, and Jimmy saw him stifle a sigh. He nodded. “I trust that you will do what is best for the house, Barrow.” 

“Always, M’Lord,” Thomas answered in his Butler's voice. 

“It was unexpected to see you, James but not unpleasant…” His Lordship stammered. “Until tomorrow, Barrow. Good night to you both.” 

“Goodnight, M’Lord,” Jimmy spoke in unison with Thomas, and they watched the man leave. 

“Well, that could’ve gone worse…” Thomas sighed. 

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have come up with you.”

“No, you should’n’ve, but I allowed it,” Thomas shook his head. 

“What?”

“Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes are quite right about me being daft.” 

“You’re not daft.”

“I am for you,” Thomas said. 

Jimmy felt bowled over, and he felt his skin heat up, and he had to look away from Thomas for a moment to catch his breath. He wondered where it went and he looked at the door his Lordship walked through. “Will he tell you I can’t visit?”

“No. He won’t… I’ll smooth it over. I can ask Anna to ask Bates to help…” Thomas shook his head at the thought.

“Going to Bates for help?” Jimmy felt awed he do that for him.

“Necessary evil,” Thomas looked at him. “We better finish up.” 

Jimmy nodded and followed Thomas to the rest of the clocks, watching in awe at how deftly and swiftly he wound them. He never had the knack for it, and that was why it was such an easy excuse to use to be closer to Thomas. He wished he knew then what he understood now. He wanted to say something, and he wanted to apologize for the problem he was about to be because of his Lordship. All of it was probably reminding Thomas of Anstruther…

And Thomas was angry about her and rightfully so…. Their argument and conversation about rushing through Jimmy’s mind. It was all just a beginning. Their was more they needed to say and more for them both of them to understand. And he had to leave Downton. He felt like lead suddenly settled in all his limbs. He followed Thomas downstairs, they were going to take a car, and he suddenly wished they were walking. 

“Jimmy?” Thomas asked as they walked into the servant’s hall. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re quiet.” 

“It’s a good quiet though,” he said because it was, always was between them. A comfortable quiet, one that'd fallen between them many nights as they smoked. 

“You look upset.”

“I don’t want to go…” Jimmy whispered. 

“All good things…” Thomas started to say his voice choked.

“We’re not ending,” Jimmy snapped to shut him up. 

Thomas nodded and closed the space between them, he grabbed Jimmy’s hands and tugged him. Jimmy fell into Thomas space, their chests touching and he sighed as Thomas kissed him. He sighed into it, curled his hands into his lapels and roughly pulled him in even closer. Hard and wanting, deepening the kiss because all the words in his head sounded empty.


	17. Chapter 17

After midnight and before sunset. It was its own time of night, it had its own weight and its own sound. It made him think of snowy nights, it was that kind of quiet, a whisper of something. Instead of snow, some sort of nightly veil. He felt like if he breathed too loud something might happen. The thing was he wanted something to happen, and he shifted on the bed — far more comfortable than his own and pressed his lips to the back of Jimmy’s neck. It struck him as he did it that Jimmy was asleep. His breath was slow and even, he made a bit of puffy noise as the air broke through the seam of his lips. It took Thomas back in time for a moment, that puff of breath, it hit his own mouth and felt part of the kiss that he was hoping to experience. He pressed his lips against the back of Jimmy’s neck and thought about how far they come. It felt like a story, everything felt like a novel to him right now. He was in the room of the inn, wide awake and aching for the sun not to rise. He pressed another kiss, slightly lower, he kissed his way down Jimmy’s spine. Straight and perfect, his golden skin was in shadows, but he knew the sun-kissed color of it. 

“Hmmm…” Jimmy hummed as Thomas pressed a kiss to the top of his spine. “It’s far too dark still.” 

“I can’t sleep…” 

Jimmy moved, shifting until they were face to face. He looked Thomas and shook his head a bit. “First time I saw you this close I really should have taken a moment to enjoy it.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“It was daft that kiss…” Jimmy said but Thomas saw guilt flicker behind the blue of his eyes, and he knew he held a similar expression. It was their mistake. One they both had a hand in making and maybe rectifying. Jimmy moved forward, and his lips brushed against Thomas. It was soft and light, but Thomas inhaled sharply. It felt like a first kiss, he felt something in him hitch, tense and then release. Jimmy’s breath huffed against his mouth, the sound of relief. 

“I don’t want to sleep…” Thomas whispered. 

Jimmy leaned in and kissed him again, this time it was darker, it held a promise that made him groan, and he let Jimmy’s hands slide over his waist and yank at his hips, pressing their bodies closer, the two of the naked under the sheets — it reminded him of where they were and about how they weren’t meant to be doing this.

But they already had and would again…. But. “No,” Thomas breathed against Jimmy’s mouth even as he deepened the kiss. 

“Then…”

“I just want…” his hand went to Jimmy’s face and he stared at him and felt the heat of him. The solid mass of him, the muscles of his shoulders and his arms and he was softer than Jimmy, but he felt massive himself. Hard and solid. They were real. He slipped his arms around Jimmy’s waist, and he pulled them closer, skin to skin, he felt Jimmy hard against him and felt his hardness pressed against him. “This…” he whispered not entirely sure what he meant because words felt lacking. “Just this…”

Jimmy smiled and it held his specific shade of smugness, and it made Thomas smirk in response. Jimmy’s hold on him tightened, and he let out a long breath, and it was the sound of relief and things that Thomas was afraid to put the words too — not that he hadn’t heard it. Not that he didn’t believe it. Jimmy told him he loved him and it was the answer to all his hopeful fancies. 

But he didn’t want to hear it right now, he simply wanted to feel it — there was a heaviness in the air, the fact Jimmy was leaving soon was tainting everything, and his heart was starting to pound with the nerves that were on fire in dreading it. His absence. But he was here, and he was solid, he pressed his palms and his hands into muscles. 

“Thomas, I….”

“Shh…you don’t need to say it.” Thomas pressed his forehead against his.

Jimmy’s eyes widened, and he nodded, leaning into the press of their heads, their skin and he loved how much warmer Jimmy always was than him. Thomas breathed out, and he heard a bit of whimper in it, but he was safe here. He was safe, he was held, and he was safer than ever been, in his entire life — because it was Jimmy holding him. 

“You…” Jimmy whispered liked it was punched out of him and he made a sound that showed he hadn’t meant to speak. He swallowed whatever the words were that might have followed it. Understanding and wanting to give Thomas the silence he asked for. He ran a finger into Thomas' hair and pushed the mess of it behind his ear and smiled. Jimmy liked him mussed up, and that felt bizarre to him, but he would be mussed up if he wanted. He does anything he wanted. Like he was doing this for him even though Thomas wasn’t at all sure what he was asking for.

Quiet.

The hard press of their bodies against each other. He kept grabbing, tightening but he wasn’t in a hurry to get friction against his cock, with Jimmy’s cock. He wasn’t after sex, they had it, they pressed and moved together, more than once — both intense and hurried and intense and slow. He wanted just this, just touching and breathing. 

Knowing. 

In the quiet, in this in-between of night and day, in this bed, with a man’s body wrapped all around him — not any man. No, the only man, the only man who could drive him mad in a million ways. Who looked at him and saw things that Thomas didn’t believe were there until Jimmy spoke them…

Jimmy Kent could almost make him believe anything.

Could maybe make him believe everything. 

He was brave.

He was loved. 

“Jimmy….” 

“Yes,” he whispered back his eyes telling Thomas he knew precisely what he was asking. 

The moved ever closer, hugged each other, heads pressed together and eyes locked. They two of them breathed and fell into a sort of trance. It wasn’t sleep, they didn’t want to sleep, that would mean time away and their time was precious now…. 

They both felt it. The seconds falling away. The room got more and more gray rather than black. They both sighed and slowly pulled away together, realizing the time at the same moment. Then surged forward and kissed, they kissed, and both of them sighed in resignation. 

“It’s time,” Thomas whispered despite not having to say it. 

“I don’t want it to be…” Jimmy whined.

Thomas wanted to ask him to stay, wanted to say _don’t go,_ but he didn’t dare. Not because he was afraid the answer was no, but because he knew it would be a yes — but they couldn’t live in a fantasy, and he knew it. There was a life for them to live. Jimmy made himself a life, a good life, and it was in London. It was music and fun, it was all the things Jimmy used to dream about having and his dreams were everything to Thomas. 

“You’re everything,” Jimmy whispered.

Thomas didn’t even wonder how he knew what he was thinking. 

“I’m coming back,” Jimmy whispered.

“I’m coming to you,” Thomas admitted. It was the unasked question that been in Jimmy's eyes a million times. Saying it made fear rise up in Thomas' chest but it felt like one he could battle. He felt like he could battle anything when Jimmy looked at him how he was — eyes wide and like he was in awe of Thomas. How was that possible, it was meant to be the opposite. Jimmy was the one that was meant to surprise and amaze. 

“Yeah?” he breathed out sounding happy and far too surprised. 

“Both of us… we… We. Will make this work,” Thomas whispered and added to the promises they were making each other. 

“Yes,” Jimmy nodded and surged forward and kissed him. Thomas opened his mouth to it, and it turned deep and threatened to spark thing they didn’t have time for, and they both pulled away and apart and groaned in irritation. 

“Out,” Thomas laughed, but it was an order.

They climbed out of bed on opposite sides, their eyes tracking the other’s bodies and they sighed again. And started toward their clothing, helping each other, touching and kissing when they couldn’t stand it much longer. It made everything slower. Thomas pretended they were slowing time and it was a nice little fancy. But soon they were on their way to train station. Jimmy’s bags packed and heavy in their hands. They stood on the platform under a gray sky.

~~~

Jimmy Kent loved people. He liked grabbing their attention, smiling at them, charming them into loving him. All of them. He’d tell a story or play the piano. He’d distract them with his words as he dealt cards and they all would fall for it, fall for his charms, and he loved it. Their eyes on him, laughing when he wanted them too and when he played a certain tune crying right on cue. He loved people, but right now he hated everyone around them. 

The train station wasn’t full, not this early in the morning where everything was still gray and had the silent press of night still marked on the sky. But there were people about, and Jimmy wanted nothing to do with them. He wanted to be back into his own little world with Thomas. Wrapped in the room at the Grantham Inn or upstairs in the Abbey’s attic in a less comfortable bed. It was fine, he loved that bed, it was Thomas’ bed, and that was where he wanted to be. That was where he truly wanted to be a star. He wanted to preen and show off to Thomas and only Thomas. He was the only smile, the only tears — as long as they were wrung out of him because Jimmy made him happy. 

Thomas was the only man, person, being that mattered to Jimmy Kent. And he wanted to kiss him. Again and again. Because it wasn’t a goodbye, it was a promise of more. And more and more. Right now Jimmy Kent hated other people. 

“I want…” he whined. 

Thomas met his eyes, his cheek reddened and he chuckled. 

“It’s not right,” Jimmy snapped.

Thomas expression hardened as he glanced around them. Jimmy watched his eyes go sharp, he watched the wheels turn and knew Thomas was calculating and seeing what maybe they could get away with. A long annoyed breath fell out of Thomas’ mouth, and he dug his hands into his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes. Nothing. What they could get away with nothing. Jimmy sighed and wished they were they back at the abbey, locked behind closed doors. Or in London. In The Phoenix….

He had place in his life where they could be who they were, where they could be who they were together, and he wanted that. To be able to grab Thomas and kiss him. In front of others. Claim him and his handsome face. Tell everyone that this man, this brilliant and complicated man was all his. His. Jimmy’s. 

“Your mine,” he breathed out. 

Thomas met his eyes with a warning expression and handed him a cigarette. He went looking for his lighter then, and Jimmy smiled. He pulled it out of his pocket and lit Thomas cigarette. It was a gesture they could get away with, and no one would blink. He lit his own and handed the lighter back to Thomas. He’d thought about bringing it with him, stealing it, telling Thomas that he will see him again with the action. Because he’d never keep Thomas lighter. 

They smoked, standing as close as they dared, Jimmy’s bags at their feet. They watched the sky get lighter and lighter. But it was still too early for it to turn blue. Jimmy tried not to think that by the time Thomas returned to the Abbey it would be blue and he would be inside a train car, sitting, impatient and lonely. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas’ voice cracked. 

“I’m not leaving,” Jimmy said. It wasn’t a lie, he knew he was in fact leaving, but he wasn’t leaving. Not really. He was Thomas', and he’d finally declared it and said it. He grabbed Thomas, his hand around his wrist and Thomas stiffened because there were people around them. They shouldn’t, and he knew it. Jimmy knew but he felt brave, and that was something Thomas taught him, and he wanted to show him. He stroked the scar on his wrist and Thomas eyes closed. “I’m not leaving you. I never will. Never again.” 

Thomas' eyes opened, and they were a clear gray and stared and right into Jimmy. He nodded, and Jimmy knew he been believed and his heart pounded, and he let go of Thomas’ wrist. They couldn’t touch longer than that, he really shouldn’t have touched him at all but they were saying a goodbye, not a final one, but it was their first one…. 

Jimmy didn’t want to think about the ones that were to come in the future. Because seeing each other again was all that mattered. “It’s here,” he muttered as the train made its noisy entrance next to the platform. Loud on the tracks and it made the wood under their feet vibrate. He bent down and picked up his bags, and Thomas' hands reached forward like he wanted to take one, but he stopped himself. 

He missed Thomas. Terribly. The entire time they were apart. But something cracked inside of him as they started walking toward the train. That pain, that hole suddenly felt like it been a small and easy thing to live with. Because now, he felt like he was leaving something physical behind him, something was torn out of him violently. He was sweating, and their eyes met as they stopped in front of the door, Jimmy was meant to walk through. 

They stared at each other. 

They nodded.

Neither of them said a word and Jimmy somehow made it onto the train and into a seat. He felt stiff and numb. He wondered if he was breathing. He didn’t think he was. He looked out the window. Thomas stood there. Their eyes met through the glass. They stayed, like that, silent and staring until the train moved and forced them to part.


	18. Chapter 18

Jimmy stared out the window long after Thomas’ face was gone. The scenery flew by, but he didn’t see it. He couldn’t see it. He felt choked up, and he pressed his palm to his throat but it didn’t help him breathe easier. It was harder, this time, and he was sure it was meant to be. He closed his eyes and felt settled by the thought that it hurt more to walk away from him. Not that he was leaving him, but he couldn’t help remembering the first time. How he was driven away from Downton and didn’t even look back. 

It’d been a fight not to, he wanted to, he kept thinking one last glance. One final image of Thomas for his memories. But he was too afraid to look back. His heart was beating so hard. He felt clammy and lost. Jimmy hadn’t understood he was leaving the man he loved. He'd been lost to that insight at the time, but it hadn’t stopped it from hurting. He felt like something was being ripped away from him and he knew it was his fault. 

He loved Thomas. He knew it now, and he felt more grounded because of it. This wasn’t a leaving. He reminded himself, this was time apart because the world ticked on and it wouldn’t bend to make his fantasies come true. And if anything reuniting with Thomas taught him that his imagination was weak and colorless compared to the truth of things. 

He imagined his reunion with Thomas a million times as he tried to puzzle out how he word things, how he would admit to truths he hid from himself for so long — he known it be hard for Thomas to hear and to understand. But he pictured him as willing to listen, to hang on his every word. Because he was Jimmy Kent and Thomas was Thomas Barrow. 

But Thomas exploded on sight of him, in the last place Thomas would have expected to find him. He was in Thomas’ world and as far as Thomas known he wouldn’t dare exist there. Pain was evident on Thomas features and in that first desperate kiss of theirs — because it turned out he forgotten all the pretty words he come up with and could only act. 

And they acted on their pain and pent-up frustrations and fucked. Then they yelled and shouted. Then they listened. But through it out they both felt desperate and needy. Jimmy felt it now, the intense need for him — and he thought he'd gotten a handle on that over the years. Even as the pain of missing him grew every month apart. But this…

It was minutes he thought. It’d only been minutes. But he knew the shape of the inside of his mouth now. He knew the scrape of Thomas’s teeth on his tongue. He knew the tears in Thomas’ eyes that borne out of a singular pain that Jimmy still didn’t comprehend. But he wanted to, he wanted to stop that pain because he thought Thomas’ skin was marred enough by scars. And he knew those scars, all of them, the ones on his wrists and how the one on his right hand veered a bit to the right and the left one was deeper and closer to red than pink. And he knew the needle marks, and he wanted to kiss them out of existence. 

And he blamed himself for the needles and thought he never forgive himself. Jimmy knew he couldn’t change the past. He knew their road was going to remain rocky. There were things he didn’t know about Thomas — though he knew he knew him better than anyone else. But there were mysteries that were all clouded by the pain he caught sight of in Thomas' eyes. It was there as they said a goodbye that wasn’t a goodbye. There was fear, and he felt it too because the last time they were apart was marked by grief, horror and pain. 

Jimmy spent years missing Thomas. It was like breathing. It was daily. Always a buzzing noise and he tried to pretend at times — stretches of months but sometimes it was only minutes. He was learning though, and with every lesson learned about himself, he missed Thomas more deeply.

But Thomas had known nothing about his self-discovery. Thomas never knew he marked Jimmy’s heart as his own. Jimmy missed him, but Thomas’ pain was harder. 

He left behind a broken heart. 

Jimmy pressed his hand to this throat again, breathing felt almost impossible. That heart was still cracked, Jimmy thought — hoped — he could mend it, but it would take time and right now time was against them. They were apart. He thought about the last time he left again, how sick and nauseous he felt. How lost and completely lacking in understanding he was…

He’d made a wrong call. He’d make the right one now. 

~~~

Thomas,

I’m on the train, and when I look out the window, all I see is you on the platform. Handsome and standing eerily straight and looking right at me in a way that makes me not recognize myself. I could see your eyes, darker than normal but clear and giving away your inner intensity. All of it aimed at me, and it makes me feel proud. It made me ache to have that glass between us, and now there is space between us. Too much space, miles and miles, and I hate this parting. I hate it. I am stuck here on this train, rolling away from you — again. 

You must be on the road now, on your way back to the Abbey. I’m reminding myself you have friends there now. People who dislike me and are watching out for you. I wish that been the case the last time I left. I keep thinking about that day. It comes to me in vivid short bursts and hindsight being what it is so many things seem clearer. 

Right now, this second, I want to be with you and I feel sick — truly sick —I’m not. Breathing is hard, and I feel shaky. It’s reminding me how I felt sick last time I left you. I remember it as if it is happening again — in a way it is and this time is both worse and better.

What I told you that day and how much I meant it. I wanted you to be happy, I want you to be happy, with everything I am. I told you I hoped you found happiness and truly meant it. I didn’t understand why I wanted it though, I didn’t at all. Now I know it is because of how important you are to me. More important than I can put into words. Now, I know it is because I need you because without you the air doesn’t seem to get to my lungs. 

I didn’t know that then… But as I rode away from on that wagon, I fought all my instincts to look back at you. I felt sick, Thomas. Clammy and faint. I think I was panicking at the thought I would never see you again but I was afraid to find out if that was true, so I didn’t allow myself to look back at you. I couldn’t let myself have one last glimpse, one last memory. I was afraid of what I felt. We both know I’m a coward. 

The truth, though is, I started a letter to you that night. I wrote your name on paper. I wrote how I was rubbish at writing, but I thought I’d give it a try. I wrote that I hoped you find happiness, and that was I going to be just fine and dandy. I was repeating our goodbye, and the words looked wrong. 

They weren’t wrong because they were true but they were wrong because they weren’t what I wanted to say. Not really. I wanted to write that I was going to miss you. I wanted to write that I was full of shite when I said I would dandy. I wasn’t going to be dandy, but I like the world to think I am, don’t I? I wasn’t at all sure I would land on my feet. My false confidence was failing me. But I didn’t dare write all that truth. So, I crumbled the paper up and threw it in a fire. 

I decided I wouldn’t write you until I had concrete things to say. No not things. Good news. Like a job, a flat, a life. I went about looking for those things, and I fought not to think about you, and it was a battle. I never won that war. I thought about you every day. I just told myself I didn’t. 

I did find a job and a bed. And I tried to write you again. But the words felt empty, and I told myself why would you care how big my room is or that my new boss made me miss Carson — he did, I should tell you about him someday, but in person, yeah? 

I have many things I need to tell you. But nothing is as important as what I should’ve been writing to you all along. Since we’re apart — and I hate it, Thomas. I hate being apart from you again — it’s worse this time, it's harder, I feel like I’m drowning. But we are, but it gives me a chance. 

I’ll write the letters you should have gotten. And last time you should have gotten a letter that said: I miss you and that I messed up a good thing by being a fool with Anstruther. I regretted it, I told you I know, but I regretted it more than I can ever explain. I should have told you I wanted to stay at Downton because of you. You were my friend. I felt less lonely because of you. I should’ve admitted those things. To myself and you. But I wasn’t ready yet, I suppose. I should have least told you I was afraid, and you would’ve understood it. That I wasn’t sure about another job in service. You wouldn’t have laughed at my dreams of finding a way to get paid for music and travel. I know you would have understood. But at the time it felt too much like bearing my soul — it was too intimate. 

I should have told you that I felt alone again like I did before Downton as I grieved my mum— I did, I felt so alone again and you were the only one who ever knew it, or understood it. I was worried about my future. I was in a crappy one-room flat with only a fire to keep warm. I remember it was pouring rain when I tried to write that letter. I was tempted to go for a walk in it, but I didn’t want to get sick. I felt sick as it was — It was fear, fear was crawling up my skin. I was so stupid, and I knew it — why didn’t I admit that to you in that goodbye? You would have understood, but I wanted to save face. I wanted to look proud, and I wanted you to think I’d be fine. Why I wanted to lie, I don’t know, even now… 

I felt so alone, Thomas and that was what fell onto that page. I got frightened of writing you. The words would show you too much. Again the intimacy I wanted to share did nothing but make me run. It was showing me too much, and it took work for me to learn how to be brave. 

I’ll always envy you. It’s innate to you. The risks you willing to take — but thank you because I know I am one. To you. Now. And then. But you take them, risks. You’ll run into a fight. You’ll run into fire. I know whatever you tell me about your wrists, I know that in the end you were brave again because I felt that healed skin. 

Jimmy


	19. Chapter 19

Thomas stared right into Jimmy’s eyes through a pane of glass, his whole body throbbing with a sick anticipation of knowing his heart was about to be ripped from his body. It was the memory of the first time Jimmy left him. How he had been left with his soul shredded. He tried to brace himself for that same ripping pain, the same breaking. Thomas held his breath, and when the train started to move, he felt a sob tear itself out of his body. He wouldn’t cry, he couldn’t, not here. Not on the platform, so, he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. He fought against the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm, and he kept his eyes on Jimmy until he wasn’t there to see…. 

Then he watched the train until it vanished into the distance. He was shaking, and he felt sick. But it was different than before, but he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse. Jimmy wasn’t with him, but he wasn’t gone, thought popped into his mind. Memories of kissing him made his lips tingle, and the memory of Jimmy pushing inside of him, filling him up, arms wrapped around Thomas yanking him impossibly close made his skin heat and his breath hitch. He touched his mouth and swore he could feel the pressure of Jimmy’s forehead touching his own. 

They spent the night curled up tight, eyes locked and kissing because they couldn’t stand to be disconnected. Thomas felt his eyes threaten tears again and his chest hurt as he fought to kept the sobs inside. He forced himself to look around him and take in the other people on the platform. It was starting to become busier, more full of people going on about their days. Thomas envied them, none of them looked as though they just let a piece of them leave. 

He wasn’t gone, Thomas told himself, hearing Jimmy’s voice in his head. Promising he wasn’t leaving Thomas. Promising they would find a way to make them work — telling Thomas he loved him. Jimmy’s voice low, the memory of it vibrated through Thomas. There was music in it like there was in almost everything Jimmy did… 

He’d fuck Thomas in a perfect rhythm. 

He started walking toward Downton Abbey because if he didn’t, he would be late. And maybe his whole world rolled away from him — for the second time, but his life went on. And it would include Jimmy, Thomas reminded himself. This wasn’t the same, it wasn’t an end. Last time been an end, maybe it turned out not be _the end_ , but it’d been an end. A chapter finished, and Thomas felt those cracks, felt the threat of shattering in all the same places again. 

He was gone, but he wasn’t leaving… Thomas thought it again, and he would keep thinking until he felt it was true. But he was afraid. He wasn’t used to getting things he wanted. The world always seemed to rip things away from him, and he looked up and saw Downton Abbey ahead of him on the path. And felt his heart swell with appreciation.

It was a fluke of luck he’d been allowed to return to Downton. He thanked that luck every day and he felt it now as he saw the building looming before him. He felt it but was disappointed when the swell of gratefulness that wrapped around him didn’t touch the hole he felt in his chest. And it shouldn’t have been a surprise, yet it knocked him back a bit. He stopped walking and stared at his home and found it lacking. 

The hole inside of him wasn’t new… It was a wound, open and raw that he’d been carrying around since the day he watched Jimmy leave on that wagonette. Jimmy’s goodbye in his head, the knowledge he wouldn’t get a letter, that they would never see each other a certain doom weighing down his shoulders. It was the hole he desperately tried to erase from existence by trying to erase who he was really… Tried to bury Jimmy’s hold over him by changing himself, desperate and pathetic for it, allowing himself to be taken in by lies and unattainable promises of swindlers.   
The emptiness inside of that never vanished and nearly destroyed him. The scars on his wrists itched, and he paused again to stare at Downton. It was his sanctuary. It was the place he called home. It was a place where he had people — despite pushing them all away for years. For being bitter and snarky and knowing he’d never belong, so he never bothered to try to… 

It was better now. Baxter refusing to be his enemy started it, and Anna and Mrs. Hughes stood by him after his attempt on his life. His eyes slid closed, and he felt the ghost of Jimmy’s thumb over his scar, soothing it, trying to take away a pain he didn’t understand. It made Thomas cold, the memory of it, of slicing into his wrist and being sure. The place he felt safe, despite being disliked, was being threatened. He truly thought there was no other choice and yet somehow…

When he found his way out of darkness when expected it to be all that was left for him he’d been relieved. But it never meant he was whole. It meant he learned to live with it — the hole. Jimmy shaped and reminding him what a hopeful fool he could be. 

How he gripped onto their friendship and told himself it was enough. He stared at Downton Abbey, he walked through it, and he felt that missing piece of him throb. Being Butler, it kept him going. Being allowed to come back, to be elevated, to remain part of the Crawley’s staff — it’d felt like coming home. It was safe walls and a warm space. It was his home, it was all he’d known for so long.

But he was never full. He just learned to live with the emptiness. He learned to go through day by day, grateful for things that didn’t deserve. Baxter’s friendship, Anna and Mrs. Hughes kindness. Lord Grantham’s gentle soul. It was and wasn’t enough, but he focused on the was…. It was what he was allowed, and it was more than he could ever hope for. 

But Jimmy. His beautiful Jimmy. Seeing him again had been terrible, nothing at all like the soft and perfect fantasies that popped into his head over the years. In them seeing Jimmy again just fixed him, it fixed him at first sight, and everything was golden and perfect. Fantasies were simple, but the reality was harsh. Seeing him again was terrifying, it terrified him still, but there was one grain of truth to the simplicity. No, Thomas wasn’t fixed, but he was closer to it…

The hole Jimmy carved out in his chest was smaller. The cracks and rips in his soul were mending. But they weren’t mended. Not yet, maybe never, not completely. But touching Jimmy, speaking with Jimmy, knowing Jimmy was in his life while he was in Thomas’ face. While he was grabbing hold of Thomas’ wrists and trying to soothe away a scar…. Which was a story that Thomas wasn’t ready to share but all the same, it was beautiful to know his touch against those wounds. It was beautiful having Jimmy back despite the terror of being shredded to pieces again… It was beautiful to have Jimmy in his life but not only in his life but in his arms. They’d always been arms-length before, close, mates — the best of — but never too close, no getting too close because it was dangerous and Thomas had always thought it unwanted. 

Jimmy revelations on that being a lie was information Thomas wondered if he'd ever fully believe it. No matter how many kisses, how many thrusts of Jimmy’s hips, how many times he whispered I love you in Thomas ear or told him with a simple gaze. 

It was closer than he ever dreamed. He felt more himself than he had in ages, since before he even met Jimmy. Jimmy was his, and they matched. He spent most of his days curbing his tongue, biting back the snark because he was trying to be nicer. He was working on not shoving people away because he was jealous or afraid. He was trying not let his bitterness hobble him.

But he swallowed a lot of himself for it but never had to with Jimmy. Ever. Once they were mates, he was a safe place for his less kind points of view and Jimmy always seemed to understand that Thomas felt outcast once he dared say anything about it to him…. 

It was months into their new friendship, they were outside smoking and made a bitter comment about being different. Then regretted it, afraid of what Jimmy might say or do…. Afraid of offending by reminding what Thomas was. But Jimmy easily agreed with him it was bloody unfair. 

Maybe that was one of the clues he missed to Jimmy’s true nature, hidden so well under bravado, charm and the perfect act of being a ladies man. He frowned and felt his brain fighting against Jimmy’s confessions and what he knew from their past. He felt the truth in Jimmy’s touch and every time their eyes met. Jimmy wasn’t like other men, Jimmy and he shared something intrinsic. 

A fact he always felt to be true, but it was more real than he ever expected. Finding Jimmy in that club been awful and frightening. All it done was remind him of what he lost, made him feel as if the hole inside of him was a never-ending chasm and unfillable. All it done was remind him that he barely survived losing Jimmy…

He couldn’t do it again. Yet, here he was taking the risk. Jimmy was gone. “But he’s not,” he muttered to himself. “He left, but he’s not gone.” His heart pounded, and he reached the door to the Abbey. He paused and pulled in a shuddering breath. 

Years ago he done the same thing once the wagonette had vanished. He turned around, wiped his face clear of tears turned around and fought off giving into more sobs. He opened the door and gone about his day, telling himself that he was fine. 

He wasn’t going to lie this time. He wasn’t fine. Far from it. He wanted to trust Jimmy. He needed to trust Jimmy. “He’s not gone,” he said again, and he believed it. He saw Jimmy, staring at him through the window of the train. His beautiful face etched with pain, his eyes pinning Thomas to the spot where he stood. Thomas knew they were a dark blue, despite the distance being too far to see. He knew, he felt it, he felt the love he been seeing in Jimmy’s expressions for the past fortnight. He felt the need Jimmy felt for him on his skin, the ghost of Jimmy’s hands and mouth… 

His thumb on his scars. 

Knowing Jimmy’s intimacy, Jimmy’s confessions, Jimmy’s words of love they’d made the hole smaller. His cracks were mending, and he was healing in ways he never expected to feel. The catch was that though the hole was smaller, now with Jimmy’s absence it hurt all the more. It was worse, perhaps because now he was told things he never thought he would hear. 

_I love you._

Jimmy’s voice echoed. 

Thomas wiped his eyes and cleared away tears. 

One less bracing breath and he opened the door to the Abbey. 

And somehow he lived through two days. He was short with everyone, he was curt and too blunt. He apologized more than once but he knew he didn’t sound convincing and he wasn’t sure if he meant it. He missed Jimmy, he was allowed to be upset. He was afraid, and Baxter kept trying to get him to speak on it, but he wasn’t caving into that. 

No. 

It was late, and he hadn’t sat all day. He walked into his pantry, shut the doors and locked them both. He sat at his desk and sighed at the mess of it. He started organizing things. Inventories, payrolls, his mail. He decided to start with the mail, his heart hammering a bit as he picked up the pile. It was two days worth and large. He sorted it, breathe in his throat that let out in a soft relieve sigh when he saw the envelope. 

Something cracked, and he breathed easily for the first time since the train forced him to stop staring at Jimmy’s face. He wrote. He wrote him. Thomas smiled and stared the square envelope. He wrote. He meant it. Jimmy meant all his confessions — and maybe it'd take more time for Thomas to believe they were true but this was a start he thought. 

He opened it. 

~~~

My Dear Jimmy,

The night you left, I wept. All those years ago. I can at this moment feel the tears. They stung at my eyes and made it hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe from that day onward. I hated myself for letting you under my skin, for believing in our friendship. I let what I always feared become the truth — you were only doing it out of obligation for the fair. Out of pity. A sense of guilt…

Maybe a piece of me will always think of it that way but I know it’s a lie, I believe you. I can’t express, what seeing your letter meant to me, Jimmy. It’s just paper and ink. But it’s your handwriting, and you wrote to me — from the train. 

I felt it too, that pain of our stare breaking. I could gaze at you for all the hours left of my life and never get my fill. I love you. I did from the moment you said your name to me, maybe before then… It was nonsensical. It’s illogical to love someone at first sight. Or so I always thought, but the knowing of you only made it grow…

Despite the pain. And it was pain, Jimmy. I cried that day, all those years ago and I cried after the train. It was different. I know your touch, I know your voice in my ear saying both beautiful and off-color things… 

We are something. The two of us and I know what I wish it to be and almost believe you do as well. I hope you don’t take the doubts personally, Jimmy, I believe you understand why because for years I was clueless to your inner lies and torments. You hid it so well, maybe it was as you say because you were lying to yourself. But I thought, no, I know, I know you, and I missed it…

Maybe because it was it was something I wanted to see too much, too deeply, maybe I was too afraid to see it because I am foolish and hopeful. I was foolish and hopeful enough our whole friendships. Hopeful fancies of you kissing me never left me and never will. Just now, I hope they have the chance being true. 

You’ll kiss me again, my love, you promised.

Thank you for telling me what you should’ve written me, what you wish you had the bravery for when we parted that first time. I need to hear it, Jimmy, it’s a needy thing, and I’m not proud, but I find it hard to be about you… You mean too much to me. You feared the intimacy, and I understand it, it’s a dangerous thing to put yourself out there…

A risk. Risks being something I’ve always had to take if I wished to have any moment of desire and want. Reading between the lines, hoping to have read a gaze at my lips correctly. It’s made me bold and stupid, though I suppose you might call it brave. It never got me found out until you — which I regret, I will apologize again for that kiss… 

But you're worth risk, Jimmy. Always. 

I don’t fault you for not risking those things, that intimacy as you put it, these things are frightening and overwhelming. You told me you were lying to yourself and I hate to know that because I lied to myself too…

You left, and I was angry, bitter — more bitter. There was a fire of pain and hatred of you in me. I hated you because I loved you, but I wanted to hate you, just hate you. For throwing away our friendship, it felt like this, you must understand, I thought you easily threw me away Jimmy. Give me time? 

I wanted to hate, but I loved you. So, I tried to change something I never wanted, despite the pain, despite the ostracization from society, I never once thought in my life I was wrong — it was the world that is, I was so certain. But it slipped away for a time, a long time — it was only recently, in all honesty, Jimmy that it has returned to me. It was what brought me to the Phoenix. I am ready to be myself again, fully…

And there you were. Maybe it was fate. 

But I was angry and lost, and I wanted to bury the thing that made it possible for you to shatter my heart. So, I tried to change, to be like other men and thought if it worked, if it would just work I would forget you. I cried the night you left, and when I stopped, I opened a magazine and looked for the advertisement — something I’d seen before and scoffed at. But that night it felt like possible absolution. 

If you had written me, the truth is I don’t know if would’ve written back, Jimmy. Maybe things happened as they should’ve? 

Believe me when I say I hate our parting and I will ache until I see you again. 

All my love,

Thomas.


	20. Chapter 20

His nose was pressed against the skin of Thomas’ neck. It was warm from them being pressed together. Thomas curled up, his back to Jimmy, plastered tight against him. Their bodies intertwined and Jimmy inhaled the skin, smelling a mixture of smells — all of which translated to his brain as Thomas and he was smiled so wide it hurt and his heartbeat fluttered because the fear of never having this always itched underneath his skin. But he knew now, the way his nose felt squished against Thomas’ skin, how it felt to have his arms around him from behind, pulling him impossibly close, his hands on Thomas’ hips and their legs slightly tangled. 

Jimmy inhaled and his lips pressed against Thomas skin, expecting warmth and the taste of soap and starch. In such a short time it'd become expected and even craved. He craved the starch that settled against Thomas’ pale skin from his liveries. It mixed with something uniquely Thomas. It was a unique taste, and he was the only one whose tongue was granted the gift of it. Of Thomas. 

Only his lips hit a scratchy surface, and his tongue hit something dry that lacked the warmth and sweat of two bodies pressed so closely together. Jimmy scowled and tightened his arms around Thomas to find it was a pillow. He groaned as his mind woke up and took away the dream that he held Thomas in his arms and reminded him that he was back in London. 

Alone. 

He shoved the pillow he was hugging away from him and rolled over onto his back. He started up at the ceiling. It had a strange swirling pattern and there was a ceiling light. It was out, and the room was dark. But through the thin walls, he heard the bustle of people, murmurs of people in a constant conversation and the drift of music… 

A record playing loudly, floors below him, filling the walls of the Phoenix along with the chatter of patrons. Jimmy felt a tug of anticipation, his fingers twitched. He'd be at the piano in a few hours, playing again for the crowd and earning his keep the best way he knew how…. He ached for it, the spotlight, the music under his fingers and the rumble of his voice. The crowds around him, adoring eyes from strangers who wanted to know him, who wanted to touch him because of his music, his voice…

He'd missed it while he was gone, more than he realized he thought as he thought about the set he and his bandmates would be putting on. He'd missed the attention, he loved it, craved, enjoyed being looked at with adoration, enjoyment and the wish to know him….

And he’d keep them guessing. They wouldn’t know him. It wasn’t the game, it wasn’t the transaction. His job was to be unattainable, to be something to reach for but you could never grasp. He did it well, better than most, smiling just enough and teasing just enough to lure people into his trap. Lulled them in with the chords of a piano only he could play, and the tone of his voice. He reveled in it. It was joy, and it’d kept him alive, it’d kept him kicking, when all else failed him music and entertaining kept him above ground. 

It kept him alive.

He sighed, his mind going to Downton. Going to Thomas and he ached again, suddenly angry about waking in an empty bed. Stupid sheets and pillow cases against his skin and not the expanse of Thomas’ pale and freckled skin. His slight warmth, the pink hue that the press of their bodies created on Thomas’ skin. 

He whined at the thought of it, at how if he dragged his teeth against his skin it caused a trail of pink, his tongue licked his lips at the thought of it and he felt a physical pang in his chest. It was emptiness, and it wasn’t new. It was a known ache, one he lived with for years — at first denying it, then feeling it so deeply he reacted with fear and denial. Then there was the acknowledgment of it, the knowing, the learning and the promise to fill it.

And it’d been filled. 

And now it was empty again. 

A knock on his door startled him, but his brain remained unhappy he wasn’t with Thomas. Playing later, it would warm him up, he’d smile, and he'd enjoy it, but he knew it wouldn’t fill him up. It couldn’t. He'd missed entertaining when he was at Downton, but that ache didn't match how he missed Thomas now…

The hole was bigger, his chest was wounded, his heartbeat hurt because he was a train away from the reason he felt alive. He never felt alive before, not until he and Thomas found their way into each other’s arms. He let out a breath, shuddered in fear because it was only a start, it was a beginning…

They hadn’t fixed their wounds. Jimmy thought about Thomas’ wounds and wondered if he could ever heal them, or if it was too late? Was it possible? All he knew was he would die trying… He wounded Thomas, and now he wanted to heal him.

But they were apart. The knock on his door grew more demanding. It hurt to move, he ached, and he wondered if he would find joy later at the piano playing for the crowd. He opened his door and frowned when he saw himself looking at Peter Bering. 

“I told you to pack up and leave, you’re fired,” Peter said to him.

“Hi, Jimmy, glad to see you’re back, how was your trip.”

“I’m not glad to see you. You took off with no notice, for over two weeks…”

“Barely over two weeks and I sent word to Cass.” 

“I am in charge of the entertainment at this club, and you and your band are out. So get you and them out.” 

“Pete, Pete…” Jimmy laughed and grinned at him, he slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not fired.”

Peter inhaled through his nose, and it made his thin mustache quiver, which made him look ridiculous. Though, Jimmy found him to always be ridiculous. Peter was exact, sanctimonious, oily and seemed to think he was in charge. Which granted, his job was management. Of the bands, of the booze, of the food and keeping the club running in ways that rivaled what Carson did at Downton Abbey. Jimmy assumed he was good at it. Otherwise, Cass wouldn’t put up with him and allow him to have so much say in the day to day of things….

But Peter hated him. Had since the moment he and his friends rolled into the Phoenix. This wasn’t the first time he was fired by the man, and he'd expected as much after being gone for so long and wished he could find it more entertaining than irritating. But he'd interrupted Jimmy thinking about Thomas, he had time still to be alone in his room, thoughts of where he really wanted to be to play out in his mind… 

In hopefully an enjoyable way, though it would pale against being touched by Thomas himself. 

“I’m not fired,” Jimmy repeated.

“As I am the one who keeps you in employment, I beg to differ,” Peter snapped. 

Jimmy laughed and caught sight of Billy, his guitarist walking down the hall. “Bill,” he called out and pushed past Peter into the hallway.

“Mr. Kent you are not dressed.”

Jimmy looked down at the pants he was wearing and the nothing else. The wood was cold under his bare feet, and the air was cold against his chest. He shrugged though because it didn’t matter Billy seen him less clothed, their quarters being tight on the boat ride to England. 

“Kent, finally gracing us with your presence again, I see.” 

“Mr. Kent.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Jimmy leveled at Bering.

“Not until you, him and the others leave as I have…”

“Bering, man…” Billy’s American accent was blunt and full of laughter. “We aren’t fired. How many times does she have to remind you?”

“She should listen to me.”

“Yeah, she’s too smart to do that,” Jimmy laughed. “What time are we on?” he asked Billy. 

“Two hours, eight o’clock. You catch up on sleep… I’m guessing you didn’t get a lot while you were gone?” he winked. 

Jimmy felt an unexpected blush as well as a rush of irritation at the notion of sharing any detail about him Thomas’ time together. It was private, it was theirs, and that was sacred. He felt Thomas’ mouth and his touch at the mere mention of him though, warmth flooded him, and he ached to be at Downton. There was something missing, a familiar emptiness but it never been as raw as it felt now…

He gasped.

“Jimmy?” Billy questioned him. 

“She here?” he asked. 

“You do not have an appointment,” Peter said.

“Mr. Bering, I don’t need one,” he said. 

“You should be out on the streets,” the man muttered and finally walked away. 

“She’s told him daily we aren’t fired…. Quite enjoyed our little vacation, got myself to see more sights of London. Went to a few more respectable clubs and dance halls. I do love London women.” 

“You love all women, Billy,” Jimmy laughed. 

“And you don’t?”

“I only have eyes for one man,” he said, and the emptiness slammed at him. 

“So, it went well then, like you always wanted?”

Jimmy shook his head. He liked Billy, a lot really, they were good friends. He was a great musical partner in a lot of ways and helped Jimmy to play better and write smarter. But something rushed through him, something protective, something that screamed at him to keep Thomas to himself. His. Thomas was all his… 

“You got some kind of charm, Kent…” Billy said. “Bet he fell right into your arms.”

“Of course he did,” Jimmy gave him a smug smile. “Downstairs in an hour?”

Billy nodded. “I’ll let everyone else know… Glad you’re back, I’ve the got the itch to get out there… Not that I minded the break, did some exploring of London and found quite an education.”

“Me too, me too,” Jimmy said and felt that itch in his fingers again, the golden sound of music thrummed under his skin. It was a compulsion, it was an adrenaline high that he craved and needed. “Education or trouble?” he asked.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

Jimmy nodded, and he started down the hallway. Toward the set of rooms, Cass kept for herself. He felt his heart pounding as he made his way toward his room. Fighting two different wants that coiled inside of him. The urge to protect his time with Thomas, to protect the fragile beginning they’d cobbled together after having to deal and face the pain of Jimmy’s decisions and absence. But also wanting to tell her, tell her more about Thomas, admit that nothing went as expected. The pain he caused was unbearable and unimaginable. He thought of Thomas' scars, and Jimmy's heart lurched. Thomas pain wasn't his to spill. But he wanted to tell her that he never understood, he never understood what he was missing until he was able to touch him, touch Thomas.

She knew so much of his doubts and worries. She knew his heart belonged to Thomas. She was important, one his most treasured friends. He role in his awakening was vital, and he'd always felt grateful, but now it was deeper. He rapped on the door to her rooms and felt as if his breath was trapped in his chest. 

The door open and tall blonde woman appeared. Long hair in her face and wearing undergarments that barely covered her curves. She grinned at him, looking both younger and more innocent than her years or her experiences. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her room. 

“Bering will learn to live with the fact you are guaranteed employment for life… But I know you, and the guys know better than to listen to him.”

Jimmy just scoffed.

“So, how did it go?” Cass asked and walked across the room to a vanity.

Jimmy opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t…” he caught her eyes via the mirror. 

She smirked knowingly. 

Jimmy felt himself blush again, but fear pounded at his heart. “I’m quite terrified.”

“He must have forgiven you, you’d be a mess if not and wouldn’t have been gone so long.”

“Of course he forgave me.”

“Smug as always.”

Jimmy shrugged. It wasn’t Thomas’ forgiveness that surprised him or scared him. He expected it, to an extent, but he did know it wasn’t simple. Not as simple as it sounded anyway — Thomas would always forgive him. It was the forgetting that was the issue. It was if he was worth forgiving that was weighing on his shoulders.

“You look serious,” she said. “I do love your serious face, I must say — it is especially handsome. Must be the rare sight of it.” Cass winked and started to rouge up her cheeks. 

“I hurt him.”

“You knew that.”

“I knew nothing.”

She pinned him with dark eyes and dropped her blusher. 

He sighed. “I destroyed him.”

“Isn’t that dramatic.”

He glared at her and walked over to a chair, that was covered with dresses and wigs. He sat down on the mess and looked up at the ceiling. It held the same swirled pattern as his room. His mind fell back to what he was dreaming before he woke up. His nose against Thomas’ neck, surrounded by the scent of him and the press of their bodies. He groaned at the loss of it and blinked back tears. 

“Is it that painful?” she asked.

“What?”

“You look quite in pain, what is it?”

“I miss him…” Jimmy laughed. “All that whining, Cass, all these years as I claimed to miss him while choosing to be apart.” 

“Choosing?”

“What I did, isn’t it? I left. I never wrote.”

“You knew he'd be angry about it…”

“I feared it and let the fear win.”

“And?”

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know it would be like this… yes, it hurts, excruciatingly… I miss him. You can’t hear the weight of it.” 

“I will once you put it into a song.”

Jimmy laughed.

“Playing will help with the hole.”

“Won’t be enough.”

Cassandra walked over to him and sat on the arm of the chair. She put her hands through his hair, twisting and combing it with her fingers. “You look a mess, you just woke up.”

“I wish I hadn’t… was dreaming about Thomas.”

“Will I meet him?” she asked.

Jimmy nodded.

“Have you mentioned me?”

A weight settled on Jimmy’s shoulders. “I’ve I kept him from knowing me, Cass. It’s not understandable anymore, I don’t care if I didn’t know myself yet… I never let him in and he…” the guilt clawed at him. “I should’ve written. He shouldn’t forgive me that…”

“For him to decide isn’t it.”

“He’s biased.”

“Aren’t we all when we’re in love.” Cass kissed his forehead.

“I just…” 

“Ah, the serious face,” she laughed and patted his head. “Music, Jimmy.”

He scoffed. “Your answer for everything.”

“It’s who you are,” she said and got up. 

He nodded and started to make his way out of the room. But he paused when he reached the door and looked back at her. She was frowning at him, her eyes on him with a look he knew well. Something knowing and something wise. 

“You really left most of yourself behind in Downton didn’t you?” 

Jimmy smiled, he smiled as he thought of Thomas. He was outside cigarette in his mouth, leaning against the brick of the building. Smoke billowed around him as he stared up at the horizon ahead of him. As he looked towards London, unseen and too far away. Jimmy knew Thomas was looking toward him because he finally had a direction. He knew where Jimmy was now…

He knew where Jimmy was and he knew Jimmy missed him too. He smiled and the ache in his chest continued to be a sharp pain. It wasn’t going to go away, and it was going to make him falter and gasp. But he loved it, it burned, like how much he loved Thomas.

“We’ll need to negotiate time off, Cass… A lot of time off.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I won’t let Bering fire you, but as mad as that arse drives me he does have a point about your contract.”

He scowled at her, fear rushing him and he thought about the piano downstairs. How it was the most beautiful he ever played, he loved it, and he loved the crowds at the Phoenix. Men and women who appreciated good music and good dancing. Men and women who listened to his songs as intently as those he played by others — maybe even more. He loved the people, who crowded around and looked at him as if he was something. Saw him as somebody. Saw him as someone they wished to impress, that they needed to know… 

He loved it. 

But none of it. None of it compared to how Thomas looked at him. Thomas’ gray eyes held adoration. Thomas looked at him as if he was somebody important as if he mattered. But more than that Thomas looked at him and saw him. 

His fans. They just saw the mystery he wished to impress upon them, and they couldn’t compare. Not to the love, not to the knowledge, not to the unearned forgiveness. None of those eyes held pain or sorrow. None of those eyes held intelligence and bitterness. None of those eyes held a hopeless romantic’s heart and none of those eyes owned Jimmy’s soul. 

No, that was all Thomas. Only Thomas. Broken and beautiful. Having survived things Jimmy was only beginning to understand and he thought about Thomas’ scars. He felt a different itch at the tip of his fingers. Not for the piano but for the scars on Thomas’ body. His hands belonged there even more than they belonged at the piano.

He wanted to play Thomas until pieces of him that Jimmy had burned healed. He wondered if he could, it sent waves of fear through him as he walked into his room. He looked at the four walls and the empty bed. It was big enough for the two of them, and if he closed his eyes he could see Thomas sleeping in it. He could feel himself holding Thomas in his arms and how he would try and try to make up for everything by his touch alone. But he owed him far more than that…

He walked to the small desk in the corner and grabbed at the pen and paper that was in a drawer. He bought it weeks ago when the ship docked, and he stepped foot back on the land of his birth. He brought that day, that moment, with the intent of writing Thomas. He has already written one letter, but it was important to write him another.

There was so much to say. 

~~~

My Thomas,

This isn’t the beginning, perhaps its not where I should start — I promised you to write the letters I should’ve written all those years ago. And I will. I will tell you about the weeks in London before I found myself making my way to America.

But first I need to tell you about Cassandra.


	21. Chapter 21

The box was light and small. Thomas looked at his name on it, written Jimmy’s blunt lines and gasped for a breath His eyes closed to help him focus and remind himself of how to take a breath. He felt air go in his nose and out his mouth. He licked his lips and sucked in his cheeks. Missing Jimmy made everything hurt. He felt it physically in his gut and in his chest. He bit his tongue and tried to direct the pain in that direction just for a moment. And again he told himself how to breathe. 

Last time Jimmy left him, he remembered the pain of it. The weight of knowing that everything that made his days bearable was gone. He thought forever. But it’d been a physical pain then one he tried to beat himself out in the worse of ways — hurt himself more to try to become stronger. It was doomed from the start he thought. He was doomed.

Thomas was used to being doomed. But now he had a box in his hand. It was tiny, it weighed nothing, but his name had been written on by Jimmy. It wasn’t a gift, no he didn’t see it as that. No, it was a piece of the puzzle, his heart whispered. He remembered Jimmy’s mouth against his jaw, whispering snippets of thoughts about missing Thomas, about how he was always on his mind. He would show him. 

This was the first of it, he thought. He glanced down at his desk where he dropped the letter Jimmy written him. He'd barely been gone two days and two letters. It spun Thomas’ head a bit and he bit his tongue again, just enough to ground himself. He looked at the letter and then the box. He shook the box, brought up to his ear and heard something inside. It was light, it moved, it didn’t really make much of a sound. Just enough to know something was there. 

Jimmy hadn’t bought him something in the short amount of time he been gone. No, this was a piece of the past. This was a part of all that time when they were apart, and Thomas lived without hope. He wasn’t at all sure what to do with having hope back… 

Jimmy had always been his hope. A romantic and foolish one. One he taught himself to live without. His breath hitched, and he wondered if the loss of the hope and the pain it caused really had dulled over time. Time heals, they say. Give a heartache time, and it will hurt you less. It was all promises, and after making himself ill, after scarring his body, Thomas decided to try time despite it always sounding like empty advice. And in time, he survived, he focused on other things. He let himself be less angry at the world and nicer to the kind faces he lived among. He was less alone. That was true. 

But Jimmy walked back into his life, and now he felt alone again. Because who he wanted near him wasn’t. He liked Andy, Mrs. Hughes, Daisy, and Anna. He liked them. But he didn’t love them. And that feeling in his lungs that made it hard to breathe without Jimmy around. It was a sharp, vivid, ache in his chest and a sharp pull at his gut again. He was freshly wounded. 

But it wasn’t the same as before. Thomas shook the box again and smiled at the soft sound. He glanced down at the letter and finally allowed himself to sit down at his desk. He took a moment, another small reminder to himself of how to breathe and opened the little parcel. 

Something made of wood and painted black fell onto his right palm. He peered down at it and saw it was on its side. He straightened it up and saw a cat sitting in the center of his hand. Black and straight-backed. But the details of its feet and its tail curled around the front paws was well rendered. It’s face looked pointy and demanding to Thomas' eyes. He stared at it and found himself smiling. He quite liked cats. Black ones because of their unfairly given reputations were his favorites. Had he told Jimmy this? Or, as he was like to do had Jimmy just known? 

He missed him. His breath hitched, and he swallowed down hard, afraid it might turn into a sob. This was supposed to make being apart easier, letters and parcels were meant to remind him that Jimmy was out there loving him. The problem was he knew Jimmy was out there loving him, but he was too far away to be reached, to be touched. He couldn’t seek him out just to take a quick look that could help bolster him for a full day. 

Jimmy's face once upon a time been the fuel for making it through long days. Thomas gotten used to having that again the short amount of time they'd been allowed. But, Jimmy was gone again. Thomas stared at the cat in his hand and nodded at it. It was amusing him, his mouth twitched up and it counteracted the pain and the greed he felt — he’d never have enough Jimmy in his life. Even if he was in the same room. He would want more of him. 

He looked at the letter, then the time, he was running out of it. The day wasn’t going to wait for him. He couldn’t put it off any longer, reading the letter. Thomas thought, maybe he could wait until the end of the day but the ache in his chest needed to see Jimmy’s words, hear his voice as Thomas read sentences he'd written… 

But he was a bit afraid of what he might read. Jimmy made promises to tell him the things Thomas should’ve heard years ago. It was a frightening thought, but he was curious to know. Greedy for it because he wanted to understand Jimmy’s journey. The long journey he took to get back to Thomas… 

He opened the letter. 

~~~

My Thomas,

This isn’t the beginning, perhaps it's not where I should start — I promised you to write the letters I should’ve written all those years ago. And I will. I will tell you about the weeks in London before I found myself making my way to America.

But first I need to tell you about Cassandra. 

I don’t know her age. There are days I’m certain she’s as old as Anstruther and others where she couldn’t possibly be a day older than me. She’s wise and so very sad some days. But it’s that matters because when she looked at me and frowned and told me, I was a lost child…I ended up trusting her. 

I would have fought anyone else. Gotten riled up and prideful and told them they didn’t know me. They knew nothing about me. I would have hit a man and hissed at a woman. I would have fought against it and denied that it even sounded at all like truth. I’d known her all of five days when she said it. She laughed when she did it, her frown turning into a smile and said finally she wasn’t alone… 

I guess that’s what is because I wasn’t alone either… And I’d felt alone. I had a few friends yes, I was landing on my feet due to music and my face. But I felt alone. People I was — the men, I was with were impatient and annoyed because I’d only let them kiss me. In the dark. Drunk. I pretended I wasn’t craving more, I was still lying to myself…

She started interrogating me that night and never stopped. Still hasn’t stopped. I tried to keep things to myself, bury things, thoughts and feelings. Like I always have, it’s a bad habit, I still fight it…

Cassandra knew the man I was staying with. He was getting impatient with me. He was getting bored of my music and bored of my lies. They were close, he wasn’t a mean man, but it was hurting him to see me. 

I let her dig, with her questions, I tried to answer them… but she told me to stop lying every time I did. I didn’t know I was half the time. It was so natural to me to lie to myself. I liked Aiden - that was his name, but he just wasn’t…

You. 

It took less than a week, and I think the only reason I ever told her a thing was because she reminded me of both my mum and of you. It’s weird to stay it. That she reminds me of you because she’s not at all like you… oh, she’s clever, too clever, but her energy is louder, her mouth is brash, and she loves being surrounded by people. It’s why she’s used her inheritance to create a club, a place for her own kind she calls it… a tribe. 

She reminds me of my mum, in her outward nature, in her love of music. In her ability to look me in the eye and tell me to stop being such a lost little boy. Every time she calls me that I feel less alone and surer of the man I want to be… Isn’t that funny? 

This isn’t making sense to you is it? Maybe it will when you meet her. When you see her and her heart on her sleeve. She knows you, as well as one can from my stories… and she’s heard every story I have about you far too many times. Yet she lets me tell them, lets me miss you, lets me remember you with painstaking clarity. 

It was her, you see, who made me say it. Made me maybe isn’t right, but she was… She kept making me think about you, and this is hard to explain, Thomas. Because she doesn’t smoke like you do, no one could, your swoops and swirls are like your voice, your fingerprints, your soul. But she was smoking, like a chimney, as often as you and loudly like you. She sees me, she notes my face, she calls me handsome but it’s never her point, it’s never why she stares into my eyes like she cares about what’s going on in my head.

You were the first to do that, to look at me so smitten with my face but caring about what lay underneath. Too many people only see what I can offer, outside of myself… my charm, my face, the music I play to entertain — not the music I play to feel. But she’s not in love with me. She doesn’t look at me like you do at all.

Yet. She’d remind me of you. It was like she created a stepping stone and before I knew it, I was lost in memories of you. And it was all tied up with my relationship with Aiden, with other men at the time… 

And those stories will be yours too, but this is the important story.

I whispered to her that maybe I was in love, five days after meeting her, four days after she told me I was a lost child. I whispered that I thought I might be in love and she laughed, heartily and loudly and pointed out it certainly wasn’t with anyone nearby. And I admitted that you were far, far, away… and I wasn’t even sure at all if I was or wasn’t…

And she asked me quite simply if the reason I wouldn't do more with Aiden was this man — and told me not to pretend you weren’t a man. I was tempted too, for all of a second because when I looked at her again… she was reminding me of my mum again, in that same similar strange way she made me think of you too… I knew I couldn't lie to her, not if she was like my mum.

So, I said your name. I said. I think I’m in love with Thomas.

“I think, I’m in love with Thomas,” I said.  
“Tell me one thing about him, and I’ll tell you if you are…” that’s what she said. 

I stared at her.

She held up a hand and leaned closer. “One thing, Jimmy. Think carefully. One singular thing about this man, this man that is an ocean away, tell me just one thing about him. Think about it, don’t be too quick with your answer. We are talking about love after all.” 

I'd been spending months, so long, fighting thinking about you up to that point. I was afraid to think about you, but you kept coming back to mind, all the time and more and more with her around. She gave me permission. So, I closed my eyes, and I thought about you… the way you smoked, your cheekbones, you laugh, the way you always stood up for me, the way you glared at Carson and Bates when they weren’t looking. I thought about your smile, and how it was different and more striking when we were alone. I thought about your hands, your fingers and how you rushed into a fight for me. 

“Speak,” she whispered.

And my eyes opened, and I said. “Thomas thinks clocks are like people.” 

She grinned at me and kissed my forehead. “My dear lost boy, you are in love with him.”

And I remembered the first time I said it, and I think… I think that’s when I started to fall, that day, so long ago, in our before… I was tickled by it, amazed by it and stunned. Because you were so proper, so put together, exact, and you seemed so stuffy. And there you were talking about clocks like they were people and it was whimsical and strange. And I thought you were surprising… 

We were just at the clocks weren’t we and I was feeling it all again, knowing that part of you is a huge reason of why and maybe how I love you, Thomas. You and your clocks. 

But she had me remembering the beginning. And it was just the beginning of it all, wasn’t it? That was our before though…. When we were on different pages, but maybe we wanted to be on the one. It was before the kiss…. 

I loved you or was falling for you from the start. 

Cass showed me that. She is important to me. She is both my friend and my boss. She’s different and beautiful. I do hope you’ll like her when you come to London — and let that be soon, be soon. It’s not even been a full twenty-four hours since we parted, but I ache. I hurt. I feel off balance. 

I play tonight, and the piano will save me a bit, the music and the attention will give me some fuel, but I know, I know I’ll end up staring at my ceiling, alone in a bed that has more than enough room for you in it… and ache for you. 

I miss you. I ache Thomas. I miss you. I love you.

Jimmy x

P.S. I bought you things, stupid things, little things. I found this the first day I was in America. It’s black cat made of wood. I know it’s silly but it made me think of you. It’s the way it sits. It looks regal, proud, so like you…sometimes I would hold it and feel closer to you again. I could remember you with more clarity. I want you to have it now… Finally. I will give you all the daft things I bought (and sometimes stole) while thinking of you. 

I ache. I miss you. I love you.


	22. Chapter 22

Thomas had always been a reader, since he was young and first realized the marks on the paper created words and sentences. He read the paper, he read books. Things that were popular and things that weren’t. He owned quite a bit of poetry, but he was sure in the years he and Jimmy been side by side in the halls of Downton Abbey those books been read more by Jimmy himself. But he knew all the poems, for good or bad. He knew his mysteries and found he liked to find ones that challenged him to figure it out — it felt too easy. He loved to read and often found himself just reading whatever it was that was around within in sight if there were words on it. His father called him bookish and odd, and his mother called him clever but smiled at him sadly. He hated remembering that smile, but now and again it came to mind when he found himself losing time because he was caught up reading something. 

Though lately, it wasn’t books. It wasn’t newspapers or random magazines, or even the textbooks that Daisy was still reading as she was still stubbornly trying to learn all she could, gotten addicted to knowledge. He was quite proud of her. He wasn’t sure at all what he felt about his reading material, however… 

Many words sprung to mind and with them a million emotions. Everything was turmoil when it related to Jimmy Kent. It was the way of things, and for a long time, it’d threatened to destroy him. Thomas almost let it, almost let it rip him to pieces and lose himself. He lost himself, his boldness, his confidence… 

_Brave._ Miss Baxter and Jimmy’s voices blended and echoed in his head. At what felt like weak moments to him they both told him they found him brave. He wondered at it and was baffled by it. But he knew he could be bold, brash — fighting a natural impertinence all the time. In his younger days, it got him in the bed of a Duke that foolish cockiness. He thought about those letters so long ago, written in Philip’s aristocrat perfect handwriting — making declarations and promises out of romance novels. Though the lovers were never a Duke and Footman. Those were naive letters for a naive him, Thomas rolled his eyes at himself. He mourned those ridiculous missives, cried himself to sleep and wandered through the days after with puffy eyes. He thought that pain, that heartache. 

Thomas laughed out loud, quite loudly a full belly chuckle. 

“Mr. Barrow?” Miss Baxter gave him an odd look.

“I apologize, quite caught up in my thoughts,” he said and willed the slight blush on his cheeks to go away. 

He fingered the letter that remained to be opened. The rest had been Butler business, easily opened at the servant’s hall table. This one, though, this letter was a different sort. And he quite wanted to rip into it, greedily read it and drink in Jimmy’s blunt writing style, because it was both beautiful and rough and quite a bit like the man he missed more than was possible to exclaim. Even to himself. He wasn’t sure if it was worse or better than before, when thought Jimmy lost, it depended on his mood he supposed. Right now it was better, far, far better. It was a balm, and he felt his insides warming at the thought of all that writing. 

But opening a letter from Jimmy came with its dangers. Naked truth was on all the pages. The journey of a man who hadn’t known himself and found himself lost and alone — and having to find out. A man who lost his heart and was fighting to find it. That Thomas was that heart, well it quite flummoxed him still… 

He was jealous at times while reading Jimmy’s letters, and he was curious. And he had questions, a million questions, and worries. His heart hurt, and it soared. He was learning Jimmy better and better with each bit of Jimmy’s soul he was being given. Stories of friends, good friends, stories of music and stories of fumbles in the dark. That had him gritting his teeth and wishing it was him, jealousy spiked and he wondered what he might get in this letter, that he was rubbing with his fingers. 

“Oh, open it,” Miss Baxter laughed. “You know you want too.”

“I do,” he said to her with a small grin. But he made no move to do so… This could be one of Jimmy’s lighter letters. Snippets of his days and nights, word after word that all strung together simply meant _ImissyouIloveyouImissyouIloveyou._ His heartbeat in the hope for that because it broke his heart but it kept him from drifting apart. It kept him from going through his own days and nights driven solely by bitterness. Because that was always creeping at the edges.

He was stuck here when Jimmy was there — and it itched under his skin. But what could he do about it? He was powerless. And he was happy at Downton Abbey. He had a position, and he was good at it. This was his skillset, but it’d never come easy for him to wait at the beck and call of people. The Crawley’s were benign beings — excepting The Dowager and Lady Mary, but they too held inside them kindness. His Lordship was lenient and understanding — something that kept Thomas housed and safe, which was something he had to admit. He used it to remind himself to stay in his place when he felt like he wasn’t being given his due. The problem was, Carson seen the Crawley’s as his betters and that was just something Thomas could never do — it was absurd to him to think it. 

But this was home, he had been terrified of losing it more times than he could count. He’d first realized it was important to him during the war. Missing the courtyard, and smoking with Mrs. O’Brien. Then came the years right after the war, Jimmy Kent brightening every corner. He nearly lost it all because of his enjoyment of Jimmy’s presence. After walking into Jimmy’s room that was what hit him the most — he felt at home, this was his home, it’d become his home. And as the years went by and he shattered to pieces, lost himself and the thing that got him through his days for a long time was at least he had Downton… 

Until it’d been threatened and he fully fallen to pieces. He clung to Downton, to the people — despite them hating him, so he thought, so a few of them truly did. But he hung onto the house, and its people. In the end, the house and its people saved him. He was given a second, third… fifth chance? Downton Abbey, The Crawley’s somehow due to odd twists of luck and chance always somehow saved him.

He should be grateful. 

It’s home, he thought again and knew he was reminding himself. He was telling himself. He looked at Jimmy’s return address on the envelope and bit the inside of his cheek. He felt far from home, that was the truth of it. He felt far from home. He was in a corner in the dark, where the sun didn’t reach… 

He picked up the letter and opened it. The need finally outweighing his want to make it last as possible. To enjoy that he was getting letters, so many letters, and he liked to wonder what they might bring. Jimmy always surprised him, and the missing suddenly was weighing him down. The ache of it was bitter, and he needed him. He needed Jimmy, so he ripped it open and pulled out a handful of sheets of paper — they were always so long. It was beautiful he thought because Jimmy wrote beautifully. He knew how to frame a story, his own stories… he just enjoyed the handwriting for a moment and touched it. And pretending it was Jimmy’s cheek and blue eyes glinting with fun were staring into his own. 

 

 

_My Thomas…._

_Woke up from a brilliant dream just now — I’m quite mad that I was awoken. I wish I could fall back into the dream because during it felt so solid and tangible. And now it’s drifting away into the ether where it might completely disappear._

_You were inside me, filling me up in ways I’ve never known — and I’ve never known it, never felt you that way. You were thrusting into me and looming over me. In and out and it was a beautiful rhythm and rough in all the right ways but far too fast… I woke up quite spent and instantly wanted to fall back into that moment, to be filled up with you…_

 

“Mr. Barrow?”

His name broke the spell and the illusion. Thomas went from feeling flushed pink from arousal and want to beet red with embarrassment and a bit of shame. Reading that in the servant's hall, he should have stopped but he hadn’t been quite sure he was reading the words right but by the time Andy spoke his name he’d been quite sure and wanted to climb into a similar dream himself. He quickly folded the letter and pushed it into his inside pocket, far away from prying eyes — not that anyone would dare pry. 

“Yes, Andrew?” he asked impressed at the calmness of his voice.

Andy gave him a bit of a look, for just split second, and Thomas couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t often he turned red as an apple, his skin felt on fire still… for right and wrong reasons. Andy, however, put on a much more professional expression and started to ask about the dinner service. As the Crawley’s were having company and Thomas nodded. His eyes went to the clock, he wasted quite enough time being maudlin about Jimmy.

For the morning at least. 

~~~

He locked both the doors to his pantry. There wasn’t much time, and usually, he'd be outside right now, getting some fresh air and lighting a cigarette. He still lit the cigarette and pulled the letter out from his vest. His face heated up before he managed to unfold it. His hand fumbled in his hurry. Though he slowed down the instant he saw the words, no he would savor this and his time he knew indeed what he was reading was what he was reading. 

Jimmy was a fool to write it down, but he loved him for it. He knew his own letters held similar boldness and it was dangerous to put it so bluntly in black and white. But the letters were for them, he thought and why shouldn’t they hold their truth. After all, Jimmy was slowly, letter by letter, telling Thomas of his journey to realizing his love and his lust for Thomas. How he went from someone hellbent on bedding women to wanting a man.

It felt like fiction still to Thomas at times. But sometimes when he held the paper and saw Jimmy’s script the weight of it being real and solid fell onto his chest, and it crushed him. With possessive jealousy, with pain for himself, with heartache for the man he loved… alone and confused and relying on strangers. Yet some became friends — and Thomas envied that. 

Jimmy found people like them in his journeys. 

Thomas was surrounded by good people, kind souls and he understood that now. But none of them, none of them understood his shattering, understood how broken and alone he sometimes felt. How easy it was to be lost and confused when your thoughts never matched what was expected from everyone else… Thomas inhaled sharply on his cigarette and steadied himself. 

He reread the opening paragraph of the letter. He leaned back in his chair, and he groaned, eyes falling closed and an impatience for his bedtime sneaking up on him. He sighed knowing it was hours away, but it would niggle, and fantasies were already starting to form. He mentally shook himself. There was no time for such folly right now. He blinked a few times and focused his attention on the rest of the letter. It was unlikely the entire thing was the dream, or what Jimmy wished the dream to be…. Though what a lovely thought. 

_It was Peter and Cassandra who woke me up. I hate that man. He’s stupid, quite stupid, and he messed up an order. Was blaming Cassandra, was blaming the waiters, was blaming the bartenders, wasn’t blaming himself at all for under ordering the wine. Again. I never was much for service, and I realize the Crawley’s have their wine cellar, but the other spirits and things, Carson always kept everything quite stocked as did Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore. Remembering picking up orders or carrying them and it was never out of sorts. A few weeks ago an order for the kitchens came in, and he asked me to get it… I wasn’t in the mood to argue, so I went ahead and did it. It was short, I could tell simply by looking at the boxes, and I started asking the grocer about it. They were all this was the order, and sure enough, that was what he ordered._

_I keep telling Cass to fire him. I yelled it as I stormed out of me room, pissed off at being awoken by his stupid sniveling voice. He’s a black cloud, here, but otherwise, life in the Phoenix is quite good. I play most nights. I even end up playing on the nights I’m not the center of attention. But I’m lonely too…_

_Doesn’t matter who I meet, or how interesting they may be, the enjoyment of it only lasts for the during of it. Once the conversation I over, any spark I might have felt, all the interest I may have held in the subject. It all just fizzles away — I miss our conversations. The ones we used to have outside, smoking your cigarettes, we’d talk about nothing and the feeling I got out of just being near you would carry me through the rest of the day._

_Been thinking about that a lot. I hated it there, felt closed in and trapped. Except when I was with you. I hated service, kowtowing to them, having to be called James because Carson was a stuffy git. It was never me, I hate it, I did… and maybe though most of it was fear of my feelings for you, there was more than one reason I destroyed my standing with the family with Anstruther. I love my life now, the freedom, the music, the people who are thumbing their noses at the rules… How I want you to meet them all, my bandmates, Cass, everyone but that insipid Peter._

_But as much as I adore them and this life I’ve built. It was never enough, it was missing you, it was always missing you. But I feel it, daily, it grows this hollow feeling in my chest and in my mind where you’re supposed to be. Being dry and witty, rolling your eyes and listening to me in that way only you do, only you can I think because you see ME. And I missed that for years, but it aches harder now. It’s meaner._

_I need to see you, Thomas. I’m running out patience._

_Yours,_

_Jimmy_


	23. Chapter 23

Thomas ran his thumb up and down the scar of his right wrist. It was always the one he focused on, the one that drew his attention and reminded him of a time he wished he could forget. It was a darkness that was always at his edges, and he found ways of distracting himself and telling himself he liked breathing. And it was true, he quite liked being alive, but the whispers of agony were there lurking. The scar was deep and red. It looked fresh and new. He wondered if it would ever fade and he wondered if he wanted it to…

The clock made a soft sound and distracted him for a brief moment. He looked at the clock face and watched the hands shift in that hard way they had into the hour. The chimes were beautiful clear notes. He always quite enjoyed them and that enjoyment grew after meeting Jimmy. Jimmy and his hands given Thomas’ life music and he missed it now. The piano, Jimmy hadn’t played it enough on his visit, not enough at all. Thomas missed sitting and listening, getting caught up in the sound and watching Jimmy’s hands against the keys. 

“Maybe next time,” he whispered to himself as his mind went to London. A place it was visiting quite often. He wished he could recall the club, The Phoenix more clearly in his mind. All he remembered was the crowd and Jimmy at the piano, looking like all of Thomas’ wishes come true. It had been one of the most frightening moments of his life, and he laughed at himself now. But he didn’t regret running, he didn’t regret his anger. 

He felt his scar under his thumb and thought about Jimmy’s hands, his fingers tracing his scars. All of his scars. It always felt like Jimmy was trying to make his skin mend like he wanted to take all the pain away. Thomas closed his eyes and felt foolish for believing Jimmy could. 

The world wouldn’t allow him to, it didn’t matter how in love they were. Thomas smiled, he couldn’t stop it, even though his thoughts were dark. They were in love. Him and Jimmy. It was new to him and old at the same time. His own feelings never stopped. It was always there, in his chest, in his heart because Jimmy was always a whisper on the edges of his mind. Now he could be shouts, and it was wonderful to be allowed to dwell on him. 

Thomas looked at the clock in front of him and remembered Jimmy’s first truthful revelation. Sent weeks ago now, in his second letter — the letter that proved to Thomas Jimmy’s promises were real. Jimmy revealed to him the moment he had known he loved Thomas and the genesis of it all been from one of their firsts interactions. They'd been strangers when Thomas showed him how to wind the clock. His way of doing so far more intimate than if been anyone else, but he wanted to touch, he wanted to push just a bit and see Jimmy’s reaction. Jimmy said nothing about Thomas’ hands, touching him in ways that weren’t appropriate at all. Thomas remembered at the time feeling quite ridiculous and afraid he’d made himself seem too eccentric to Jimmy when he spoke about clocks being like people. Though it’d been Jimmy to call it that and Thomas had simply agreed. 

Jimmy’s letter claimed it was then, that he started falling without knowing or understanding. It was always there. Between the two of them. A comfort that only they know. Thomas remembered that moment well, he visited it often, because it had given him such hope. 

And it turned out not to be false after all. 

His eyes fell on his scar, it felt soft, but it was pink and angry. It was missing flesh and meant split blood. That he woken up afterward been a miracle. He’d listened to Miss Baxter’s story about how she and Andy ended up in the lavatory at the moment he most needed them. Until then he never believed her attempts at befriending him had been serious, no he thought they’d simply been her being kind. Taking pity. What else could it have been? He swallowed as the thought reminded him of the dark things he been thinking, at how unwanted he felt and how invisible he appeared to be…

Downton Abbey was his home, and no one but him seemed to know it. That been the crux of it that been the agony of it — for the second time in his life he was being thrown out of the only home he knew. For similar reasons, for things he couldn’t change. For being Thomas Barrow and he wanted it to stop, he wanted to stop. 

It sounded wonderful. His breath hitched like that pain pricked at him again, but his heart was shouting at him to stop. Stop. Everything was different now because the sun was back in his life. His life was brighter again. It would never be quite what he wanted but he’d been given something he wanted. 

Not something. 

Jimmy. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out Jimmy latest letter. Not that it really was a letter. No, it was Jimmy’s first thoughts of his day jotted down on a few sheets of paper. But they were intimate thoughts and quite arousing, and Thomas felt his face flush as he thought about the contents. He wished to reread it, again, he read quite more than he should’ve really. Seeking out moments to pause and look at the words. He was being greedy and allowing it to distract him from his duties. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He looked at the clock again and realized that his afternoon duties were waiting for him downstairs. His heart hammered because there would be another letter. Possibly the real letter Jimmy meant to mail for the day. One likely started the night before he woke up from another delicious dream. Or maybe it’d be another short note, highlighting other things about Jimmy’s day to day existence. Another wish to see Thomas, to touch him, to make love with him. 

Jimmy complained quite often in his letters about missing Thomas. It was an obvious sentiment, really, a simple one. But it never felt simple to Thomas, it felt being given everything he wanted. Jimmy missed him. He wanted Jimmy to missed. He wanted to be craved the way Thomas craved him from the moment they met. Thomas wanted to hear that Jimmy needed him. 

The letters showed Thomas he wasn’t being forgotten. But more than that he was being entrusted.

Jimmy was keeping his promises. And they weren’t easy promises. He told Thomas about his first weeks, alone in London with an okay reference from Mr. Carson that wasn’t doing him good because no one was hiring footmen. And he told himself it was better that way, he always hated the job and wanted to do something better. Something more adventurous but the truth was his trip to America wasn’t anything one would write a novel about. He stowed away, he had to remain hidden. He’d been hungry, cold, sick and alone. 

It’d shattered the illusion in Thomas’ mind. The one where his Jimmy was always healthy, happy and bright. His visions and thoughts of Jimmy always been him working, healthy and with a woman. She was a vague sort of girl, someone more like Ivy than Anstruther. But he never thought about Jimmy having hardships. It never crossed his mind Jimmy could be unhappy. He often thought about the last words Jimmy said to him — not his wish for Thomas to find some happiness but his words when Thomas wished the same for him… 

_Oh, I’ll be dandy._ The thought echoed. It never occurred to Thomas it wasn’t absolute truth. That insight hurt, it cut at Thomas’ insides, to know how wrong he been. The thought of Jimmy feeling anything close to the pain Thomas still carried with him, it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

He let out a sharp breath as he was crushed by the feeling of missing Jimmy. Thomas’s hands twitched, and he dug his thumb into the skin of his wrist a bit too hard. Trying to hurt himself a bit, to take away from the overwhelming weight of Jimmy’s absence. 

He’d pushed at Jimmy. Kept him at arms-length for most of his visit. He’d been protecting himself and though he knew he done the right thing for himself. That Jimmy needed to prove his intentions, it’d cost them time. He sighed as thought about their separate lives and yearned to be London. He didn’t feel whole, and as more time past he certain, he wasn’t going to find an equilibrium between missing Jimmy and in living his life at Downton. It bothered him, it kept nagging at him, and he found he hated it. Because it meant he would never get enough time with Jimmy. 

The clock chimed and Thomas’ hand when to his chest as it rang out the hour. Reminding him of where he stood. Where he was the duties that he must perform. He heard footsteps coming down the staircase and looked toward them. His Lordship and Mr. Branson coming into view, Miss Sybbie between them, tripping down the stairs in the carefree way of children. She caught sight of him, and her face bloomed into a smile as she rushed right for him.

“Mr. Barrow, Mr. Barrow can I be an aeroplane?” 

He looked over her head at Mr. Branson and received a nod of permission. Thomas swallowed the irritation of having to check with him, but the thought never showed on his face. He bent down to meet Miss Sybbie. She beamed at him, hands out-stretched and ready to be picked up. He grinned, unable not too in the face of such innocent sweetness. As he lifted her up he thought they were the brightest parts of his days, they were the only time he felt light and at ease. When he was lifting up children that were becoming heavier and heavier with each day. He gave a bit of chuckle as he positioned Sybbie then started to swoop her through the air making noises he assumed sounded like an aeroplane. As he never been near one he wasn’t at all sure his impression was a good one or not but the children seemed to love it. 

“That’s enough now, Sybbie…” Mary Talbot’s voice interupted their fun a few minutes later. 

“No,” Miss Sybbie said as firm and as bold as her mother.

“Yes. Mr. Barrow has duties to perform, and you have tea to eat.”

Thomas lowered Sybbie to her feet but stayed on her level and looked her in the eye. “We can play again, later, Miss Sybbie. But your Aunt Mary is right, duty is important…” he rolled his eyes a bit, just for Sybbie as he thought there really was more to life than his bloody duties. But he couldn’t argue with tradition even if he rather spent time with the children rather than the adults around him. Sybbie sighed, a bit of a dramatic one but he guessed it as her age and most likely her genes. Then she smiled big and bright and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Love you,” she said before trotting off. He felt his cheeks flush as he rose up to his full height and saw Mary Talbot looking at him with her head tilted to the right.

“Is there something you need M’Lady?” 

“No, not…. Just the first time I’ve seen you smiling in recent memory. Is everything all right?”

Her tone made it obvious she was worried, about what had happened before. Thomas had a memory of her finding him with Master George and George insisting he’d been cheering Thomas up. At the time he hadn’t wanted to admit the truth of it, but it was quite true. The children were his only happiness at the time, fleeting tiny moments of something bright. It wasn’t the same now as it been then. 

“We just hope you know we appreciate you…” Mary kept going which was quite odd to him. He remembered she seemed the most affected by his tribulations at the time. Coming to see him in his room. It’d meant more than he thought it might, then and now. 

“I’m fine, M’Lady, nothing of that nature…”

“But you’ve been quite…dour of late if I must say. If I can help?”

Thomas held back an irritated sigh. He supposed he should be honored she still cared, that she was noticing. He felt for years completely unnoticed by everyone. He never would get used to being looked at like he mattered he thought, especially from the likes of Mary Crawley Talbot. Her question had an answer, but it was one he couldn’t give. He missed Jimmy. It was all it was. He was sour and prickly because he missed Jimmy. And hard to read letters despite Jimmy’s bold sentences of wanting to touch him and how he loved him weren’t enough. Sometimes they seemed to make the absence of him harsher. Like today, Thomas thought as he glanced at the clock again. 

“It’s nothing you can help with M’Lady.”

“Would time off help?” she asked. 

“What…” he stammered.

Mary nodded. “Time off, you’ve hadn’t a breather since you took over for Carson have you, Barrow?”

“Uh… a few days here and there, M’Lady but…”

“We certainly don’t really keep you all that busy these days do we, life has changed so much… Mrs. Hughes could certainly handle things without you for say a week?”

Thomas felt his mouth open, but he couldn’t speak.

“Anna has mentioned you’ve been wanting to go to London?”

Anna. Immediately he felt embarrassed, and a bit scared about what Anna may be saying to Mary. But the thought of being able to see Jimmy was stronger. Anticipation and excitement filled him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to throttle Anna or hug her. “I could..”

“Well, then, it’s settled. You work out the details and just let us know.” Mary nodded and walked off toward the library where the tea was to be served. 

Thomas watched her until she disappeared from his sight and then he let himself smile. He smiled until his cheeks hurt and then he rushed down the stairs, hurrying to his desk already writing the letter to Jimmy in his head…. His heart was pounding and he was finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t forever, it was going to far to brief. He was already dreading leaving London despite not yet making firm plans on visiting. But he was being given a moment, he was being gifted the chance to see Jimmy’s perfect face. To have Jimmy’s graceful hands touch his body, play his body as well as he played a piano. He could tell Jimmy again, that he loved him… 

He could see him. In a safe place. And soon. 

Yes. Thomas smiled to the point of pain.


	24. Chapter 24

He was buzzing. Felt lit up on some sort of electricity, fizzing under his skin the entire train down to London. Thomas kept trying to curb his smile, he was getting looks because of it, but he couldn’t stop it. Hadn’t been able too since he was given the freedom to go to London. The only downsides were he had to leave late in the afternoon meaning he was getting to London after sunset, and he would have to leave in less than a week. It wouldn’t be long enough. He was sure he and Jimmy would only be getting started before it would be time for him to pack up his things and leave. That burned a bit but not enough to keep the smile off his face. Not enough to stop a fire from building inside of him because he would see Jimmy soon.

Moments. It was moments away as he walked down the busy London street and took turns and alleyways toward the Phoenix. There was quite a crowd by the door as he walked up to it. Confused by the sight, he pushed his way to the front of it, ignoring people yelling at him about it and telling him to go to the back. He just glared at them and used his height, which he kept doing as he found himself facing a man with a squirrelly face.

“You can’t come in, we’re above capacity.”

“Jimmy Kent is expecting me…” 

The man rolled his eyes. “You friends with everyone behind you too? Jimmy’s expecting no one…” 

Thomas glared at the man. “I am Thomas Barrow.”

“We’re full, as I was explaining to everyone else.”

“I’m expected,” Thomas snapped irritation flying up his spine and down all his limbs. “Get Jimmy.”

“He’s busy, doing his job and sorry you have to miss it this time…”

“I am Thomas…” he said again just as in the hall behind the man a woman in a stunning dress he was sure Edith Crawley Hexham would murder someone for walked behind him and stopped short. 

“That’s just a name to me…” the guy said snidely.

“Well, it should be,” the woman snapped having stopped still. “I specifically told you to look for a tall man with black hair named Thomas tonight, who is coming to visit Jimmy. So did Jimmy…. Do you fucking listen to me at all, Peter?” the woman went off and yanked Thomas into the building, then she gave a sad smile to everyone else. “Sorry boys, but he’s the lucky paramour.” 

The door slammed shut and she locked it. Then she was glaring at Peter, and Thomas felt pure amusement wave through him at Peter's expression. 

“Well, Peter did Jimmy and I not tell you to look for him.”

“How do we know that’s him?” Peter said. “Thomas is a very common name.”

The woman sighed and looked at Thomas. “Tall. Black hair. Extremely handsome. Thomas Barrow, I presume? I’m Cassandra, and this fucking idiot is Peter.”

“You can’t speak to me like that…. It’s inappropriate to speak like that at all and definitely to me.” Peter snapped. 

She rolled her eyes. 

Thomas felt odd suddenly, unsure what to think or make of Cassandra. Jimmy’s letters told him he held her high regard, she was his closest friend and his a guardian angel of a sort to him. But Thomas felt threatened, he felt jealous, she knew things about Jimmy he was just learning. She knew Jimmy loved him before Thomas. He hated that, and it made him feel off balance to be looking at her and wondering if he should be pleased Jimmy had her or hate her — because that was always simpler for him. 

“I’m Thomas,” he said as blandly as he could manage. It was then music filtered toward him, and he knew that sound, he knew the sound of those piano keys like he knew his heartbeat. It was Jimmy. He turned toward the music and took a step. 

“It’s lovely to meet you,” she said and ignored Peter. 

“Uh… you too,” Thomas lied. “I…” he took a step toward the music.

A hand grabbed his arm, and he glared at it, wanting to find Jimmy. “First let me find you a chair, so you plop it by the stage. We are quite packed, he brings in the customers our Jimmy…” she took his suitcase as she spoke and then turned to Peter and shoved it at him. “Take this Jimmy’s room.”

“I’m not a bellhop.”

“You’re whatever I want you to be, I’m paying you… do it. Then go do your job and manage my club.” 

Peter huffed and disappeared.

“Okay, I think I saw a chair….” Cassandra pulled Thomas with her as she walked away from the music. “Yes, here you go,” she picked it up and offered it to Thomas. 

He took it and met her eyes. They brown and warm and he suddenly thought about Sybil and felt a wave of guilt crush him for disliking her. He mentally shook himself, and she smiled at him. “We’ll get to know each other later, I know you just want to see him now.”

He nodded as he took the chair.

“Go on then.” She nodded.

And he did. He took the chair and made his way toward the music, into the club that he barely remembered. He had only been here for less than an hour the last time he was here. Thomas remembered his nerves at putting himself out there again for the first time in years as he walked into it all those months ago. It felt like another life, one he expected to remain Jimmyless but now that felt foreign and impossible. 

The piano was loud and bright, the music charming and drawing you in, making you want to tap your feet and move your hips. And as he got closer he heard the rich sound of Jimmy’s voice, singing words to a tune Thomas never heard before but something about how Jimmy played the music, something in how he formed the words — it felt like something Thomas had always known. 

He hurried closer, walking around crowded tables and people standing up, unlike him not having a chair. He walked until he had a clear view of the piano, the stage, where there were four people on the stage. Jimmy’s band. His other friends, people that mattered to him — and Thomas felt envy at that and not at all bad he couldn’t remember what their names were despite being told in letters. Instead, he stood, he stood where he was and stared at the man he’d come to see. That everlasting smile on his face blossoming even wider and brighter at the sight of him.

At that face. His favorite face in the world. Jimmy was smiling, and his eyes were bright, they seemed to twinkle instead of shine, as he played. He was lost in the music, he was enjoying the crowd around him. He had everyone eating out of his hand, and he knew it from the smug set of his jaw, and Thomas felt himself tumble over himself again and fall harder. Jimmy was always a surprise, he knew he was handsome, but it was as if he always forgot how much — Jimmy was always brighter than Thomas’ memory could hold. 

“Thomas?” a hand touched his arm and made him startled out of his Jimmy trance. He turned and saw two familiar faces looking at him from a table. He stared at them curiously and tried to place them.

“We met last time you were here,” the man who touched him said. “Put down your chair and sit. I’m Gregory, remember? This is Albert, and that’s our friend Stanley.”

“Oh,” Thomas nodded and put his chair down where Albert and Gregory moved to make room for him. He’d met them briefly before Jimmy crashed back into his life. As he sat down, he felt eyes on him and turned to see the man named Stanley attempting to murder him with his eyes. 

“Never mind, Stanley. He’s just jealous you’re the man who owns Jimmy’s heart.” 

Thomas felt his face swiftly become red, but he nodded his head as he held Stanley’s glare because it wanted it quite clear just who Jimmy belonged too. He turned to Gregory and Albert and remembering their kindness again. “I should apologize for how I ran off…”

“Think nothing of it, Jimmy explained to us you were taken quite by surprise.” 

Thomas nodded but thought that was understating what happened. It wasn’t mere surprise it was a complete shock, and sometimes he still felt that way — it was a shock Jimmy was in his life, that Jimmy wanted him, that Jimmy loved him. His eyes fell back to the man in question and felt his cheeks ache as his smile tried again to grow — it was physically impossible. But Jimmy’s hair was in his eyes and he looked pleased with himself and like he was having the time of his life. On the stage, singing a song and having the crowd hanging on his every word. He was a show-off and he was meant to entertain. Thomas watched, and pride washed through him because Jimmy was good, he was better than good, and he got to do something he loved and be loved for it. Thomas was envious but for the first time in his life that didn’t crush him, he wanted nothing but good things for Jimmy.

Jimmy’s head turned, and Thomas’ miraculous managed to smile wider as their eyes met. Keys plonked, the music stopped, and Jimmy stood right up. The entire crowd murmured in surprise and confusion, one of Jimmy’s band mates stopped playing his bass and grabbed his arm. Stopping Jimmy from leaving the piano. Jimmy stayed staring at Thomas though, they were close enough Thomas saw his blush and his need to get closer. But he was on stage right now, and Thomas shook his head, he could wait a bit longer, just a bit though and he seemed to say it with his eyes. Jimmy laughed and nodded, turned back to his piano and sat down.

“Sorry, everyone, just got a bit distracted by something for a moment….” He looked Thomas again and grinned. “Hello,” he said directly to him. 

Thomas mouthed hello back and felt more than one set of eyes on him, then murmurs and pointing from the crowd as they looked from him to Jimmy. 

“Okay… let’s start that over,” Jimmy laughed and started up the song he stopped in the middle of, but his eyes stayed on Thomas. And Thomas met them, he stared into the dark blue eyes he missed so much. He missed everything about him, and his patience started to wane quickly. He hoped the set wasn’t too long because he needed to touch him. He needed to be with him. He felt the ache of missing Jimmy again, another strong wave of it that threatened to knock him down. Because he was here, he was with him, but he was too far away, and life was still between them.

Thomas didn’t want a thing between them, and he held the sides of his chair to stop himself from getting up and interrupting Jimmy’s set himself. He focused on the sound of the piano and the sound of Jimmy’s voice. Thomas tried to focus on the words and the song itself, wanting to know the things Jimmy sang about but he was too distracted by the man himself. His face, the way his mouth moved as he sang, his lips, his neck and the way he kept searching out Thomas. They were staring, Jimmy was staring right at him without missing a bit as he played. Thomas’s heart was pounding in his ears, and he licked his lips as he grinned at Jimmy and impatiently waited for him. 

Time felt paused and warped but then it was over, the set was finished, and Jimmy was at the table as if he manifested there rather than walked. He offered Thomas his hand, and he took it. Something sparked as they touched, Thomas felt hotter than ever been in his life, and he was blushing. A part of him was aware they were in public, but all his focus was lost on the man in front of him. Staring at him with a smile that looked as if it hurt as much as his own. He reached out and touched Jimmy’s face just as Jimmy did the same thing. 

Jimmy’s eyes went dark, and he scowled, though somehow kept smiling too, his hand grabbed onto Thomas' too hard, and he was being pulled through the crowd. Pushing past people rudely as they tried to talk to Jimmy. Thomas wondered if Jimmy even noticed him because he was narrowly focused, he was yanking thomas with him in a direction. They went by the people, hitting a few as they did, they walked up a set of stairs and down a hallway. Jimmy pushed open a door, and Thomas found himself in a room. It wasn’t much bigger than his own back at Downton, but the furniture looked nicer, but he really had no time to tell. 

Because Jimmy pushed him against the closed door behind them, hands on his face and kissed him. Thomas groaned into it, it felt like he breathing for the first time in years. He pressed his mouth against Jimmy’s lips, they felt dry and soft and tasted like home. Thomas hands rose up and grabbed at Jimmy’s tie and yanked him closer one hand dropping to his waist and under his coat to grab hold of him as the other fell into his dark blonde curls. Jimmy whimpered, and his hands pushed at Thomas’ jacket, pushing it off his body, tugging at it and then at his tie. 

They laughed, trying to kiss and undress the other, they smiled into skin and hands raked down bare stomachs and backs as clothes dropped to the floor. Jimmy kissed Thomas’ face and pressed their noses together and hummed. Thomas pushed at him, kissed wherever his lips happened to land. Jimmy’s mouth, his jaw, his forehead, his neck. He shoved at him and moved them toward the bed. 

Thomas stopped still when he found himself over a prone Jimmy. On the bed, stripped bare from the waist up and felt goosebumps roll down his own naked chest. He sighed and touched his face again, holding himself over him with one arm. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” Jimmy laughed, and his hands started to undo Thomas’ pants. “I need you, Thomas.”

His eyes flew shut, and he inhaled as emotions overwhelmed him, his heart felt like it was flying it was pounding so fast and Thomas knew he was shaking and he shook his head. “I…”

“Shh…” Jimmy’s hands were on his face. “Open your eyes, Thomas.”

They flew open, Thomas could never deny him, and he sighed at the sight of him. Jimmy smiled at him, his expression soft and his eyes seemed to be soothing blue. He caressed Thomas’ cheeks with his thumbs. “Slower?” 

Thomas laughed and shook his head. 

Jimmy’s grin turned into a smirk. “Good.” 

“I love you,” Thomas whispered because he had to say, he could say it, he never had to keep it locked inside again. 

“I love you too,” Jimmy said back as his hands went back down to Thomas pants and this time Thomas matched his smirk.


	25. Chapter 25

Thomas drifted out of sleep in slow motion, noticing things in the ephemeral way of being half awake and half lost in dreams. It was that that kept him under longer than he may have been otherwise. It was the smell of Jimmy in his nose that made him feel like he was floating and drift back into a happy doze. The smell of cologne and pomade mixed with the earthy sunshine smell of Jimmy’s sweat. He burrowed his nose into it, pressed against smooth skin and a snore would make its way out of his mouth. The next moment of wakefulness it was the weight he felt, the solid press of Jimmy against him, arm slung around his waist and his face pressed against his shoulder. Breathe hit his neck, and he thought it was a brilliantly vivid dream, and he wrapped his own arms tighter around the man in his dreams and relished in the press of his weight. Slowly, though the waking lasted longer and longer and his eyes flew open as he moved slightly to get a better look at the head that rested on his shoulder. Jimmy face, slack in sleep, young and peaceful, mouth upturned in a smile. Like he was happy where he was, like he was happy sleeping in Thomas’ arms. Thomas lost his breath and clutched a bit at Jimmy. The man shifted, expression flickering in pain and Thomas loosened his grip. Jimmy settled and burrowed into him in his sleep, and Thomas found the ability to breathe. But awe filled him, and his heart was pounded. 

He was waking up with a man in his arms. It was a daft thought, it was something he dreamed of time and time again. Wondering what it would be like, thinking it was nothing but a pipe dream. He didn’t get he happily-ever-afters like the Bates’ or the Crawley’s of the world. He was meant to wake up alone, in a bed, sheets kicked off of him. He looked down, and the sheets had been kicked off of them. _Them._ He looked at their tangled legs, Jimmy’s golden skin seemed dark next to his own pale legs. They were covered by the knees down, and they were naked. It made him blush, but he couldn’t bear the thought of covering them, covering up Jimmy. He ran his eyes over them and closed his eyes again as he pulled Jimmy against him, unable to stop the smile when the man burrowed right into him — again.   
This was real. Not that it felt real, but it wasn’t just any man. It was Jimmy Kent. The man who stole his heart and nearly his life — but now, now Thomas felt alive for the first time in…. Maybe ever. A lump formed in his throat and he turned to look at Jimmy’s face, more specifically his smile and thought that maybe it was him that had put it there. It was daft, and he closed his eyes for a moment and thought that maybe when he opened it again, Jimmy would be gone and he would alone in his room at Downton Abbey. 

“Hmm stop over-thinking…” Jimmy’s voice was deep with sleep. 

Thomas marveled that he didn’t startle at the sound of him, caught up in his thoughts of this not being real. But it was, wasn’t it and Jimmy was leaning up and looking at him. His eyes were dark with sleep, squinting like they weren’t ready to be open and the smile had only grown wider. “I’m not,” he lied. 

“Of course you are,” Jimmy countered. 

“Maybe… just…”

“What?”

“Thought I was dreaming, afraid of it still….”

“Hmm…” Jimmy moved, sliding over the top of him, bracing on one hand and leaning over Thomas. “This is better than a dream, don’t you think?”

Thomas found himself smiling wider and wider.

“Way better because with dreams you wake up and it’s gone and I’m going nowhere.” 

But he was, he wasn’t in London long and was only luck and kindness that had him here. He couldn’t count on being allowed to traipse off to London whenever he felt the need to see Jimmy. 

“Oi, stop thinking…” Jimmy leaned down and started kissing his neck. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and he fought to focus on the moment. He bared his neck for Jimmy’s mouth and wrapped his arms around him, scraping his nails down his spine. Jimmy moaned against his skin and bit at his earlobe. 

“Better?”

“Nearly perfect,” Thomas said.

Jimmy leaned away and gave him a look. “Nearly?”

Thomas laughed and shook his head. “You are, you’re perfect.”

Jimmy grinned wide and smug. 

“Not that you need telling.”

“I always need telling,” Jimmy laughed and flopped down next to Thomas. “What time is it?” he groaned as he looked at the small clock on his nightstand. “Ugh, it’s early.”

“It’s nearly 9 o’clock…” Thomas' eyes widened and he sat straight up.

“What’re doing?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not,” Jimmy laughed and moved up and grabbed Thomas chest from behind him and pulled him back down into the bed. “Don’t have to be up for ages, yet, no responsibilities until later.” 

Thomas frowned but let Jimmy hold him, enjoying the feel of his hands rubbing against his skin, pulling him into his hold and meeting his dark blue eyes. “So, you laze about in bed all day?”

“Not exactly but I bloody well plan on it today,” Jimmy grinned. 

Thomas felt another smile tug at his lips. “Why is that?”

“Oh, _you know why_ ,” Jimmy cupped his face with his hands and kissed him. Thomas easily let him take his breath, it was always his and moved with the kiss. Savoring the feeling of Jimmy above him strong and golden, savoring how the way his stomach flipped with need was becoming familiar. He wasn’t used to it, he expected to never be used to it — it felt to wild to be true. But it was known now, he knew it, and he craved it. Jimmy broke their kiss, looming over him, leaning down, their noses were bumping. Meeting Thomas’ eyes Jimmy nodded. 

“I want…” Jimmy said voice low as his mouth crashed against Thomas’ ear. “I want to make that dream true.”

“Which one?” Thomas found himself asking because there were many, he had too many he thought — he could work on making all his dreams with Jimmy come true for all his life. His heart hurt with that ache that he really needn’t experience anymore. 

“Mine…from the letters, the one I keep being rudely awoken from,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas flushed, Jimmy’s words on the page coming back to him and how he’d read them all over and over again once he was alone in his room. He made a sound, a moan, a groan and laughed all at once. “You shouldn’t have written such things…”

“Liar,” Jimmy accused. “If you thought that you’d have admonished me in a letter…” he licked at Thomas jaw. “I want that, and I’ve waited quite long enough.” 

“You’ve waited,” he accused but it was light, and he bit his bottom lip and stared up at him. His heart hurting again and the fear crashing down on him. “Are you sure…”

“Yes…never could, not with anyone else.”

Thomas' nails dug into the skin of Jimmy hips where his hands had stilled. Thought of the other men he’d been with during his absence, the men he let kiss him and touch him. All of it part of his journey but it was away from him, and Thomas was possessive, and he hissed at the mention of the others. Jimmy smirked down at him and leaned down, mouth brushing his cheek and then against his ear again. Warm breath and the feel of lips against his skin, his voice deep as he whispered directly into his mind. “I love you, and it’s all yours, this is yours because I couldn’t imagine allowing anyone else in. Not my heart, not my body.” 

He groaned, eyes closing and his hold tightening again. He counted to three, it was all he had the patience for, and then he flipped them, switching their positions, and he was over Jimmy. Jimmy who looked for a second like he wasn’t breathing, eyes wide and wild and then he smirked right up at him. Looking like the smug and cocky footman, he met all those years ago and stole his fucking heart without permission. Not really. Thomas wasn’t even entirely sure how Jimmy managed it, but he’d never fallen so fast or hard in his life. And he’d always fallen to fast when it came to love. But Jimmy. Jimmy held his heart in a vise. Nothing could break that hold. 

“I want you in me, Thomas…” Jimmy said and bucked his hips up. 

He crashed his forehead onto Jimmy’s, a thump that made them both mutter ow and he ran a hand up Jimmy’s ribs, his chest and cupped his jaw, bracing himself on one arm and their foreheads crushed together. Jimmy’s hand snaked between them and wrapped around Thomas’ cock and his eyes widening and asking again. Silently, as he lazily stroked Thomas. 

“I’m sure…” he said again.

Thomas nodded, minutely, it was barely there, and he sighed, Jimmy’s touch somehow calming him and not threatening to stop everything before they started. He sighed and caressed Jimmy’s cheek and tried to breathe in a natural pattern. It felt a lost cause, cause he kept getting trapped Jimmy’s eyes and how damn dark and blue they were. He laughed because it was that or cry, he felt it his eyes anyway, the threat of tears. Because Jimmy did this to him, make him truly naked, and he never thought he would get to share it. This level of intimate connection with another soul. Most especially the one underneath, who was glaring at him with more and more threat with the impatience that was that was one of Jimmy’s driving traits. 

“I believe you…” Thomas whispered. 

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked, hand leaving his cock and joining his other to press his palms against Thomas’ face. “You aren’t dreaming you know.”

“Neither are you.”

“Thank god,” Jimmy laughed. “Tired of it being interrupted by a fucking dull day and night because you aren’t here.”

Thomas’ breath evened out at that, he didn’t know why and decided not to care. He nodded then and moved off of Jimmy, causing him to grab hold of Thomas and whine. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Thomas rolled his eyes at him and reached to the nightstand where some petroleum jelly was still open from the night before. “You’ve done this from the other side you do know how it works…”

Jimmy blushed, but it wasn’t about the sex it was his impatience, it made Thomas feel himself tilt again and his world spun. He saw Jimmy’s need as he looked away from him for a moment, all traces of his smugness vanishing and his own breathe stuttered. “Just… hurry up, I…” he turned back to face Thomas his whole expression pure vulnerability. “I love you…” it was a breath. 

And Thomas not only believed, he felt it too even more than two seconds ago it was deep under his skin, deep inside his heart. And he moved to give Jimmy his dream, after all, he had given Thomas more than a few of his own, especially the biggest one, the most fantastical one…

Jimmy returned to him. 

Thomas moved over him and kissed him, deeply, and then he spent a long time letting his fingers learn the one place they hadn’t been yet, the one place they hadn’t touched yet. And he was afraid from the first slip of his finger it might be too much, but their eyes locked and something else took over, especially at the lovely, musical sounds of Jimmy moaning and begging filled is ears. He knew it was another song he could listen to Jimmy sing for hours upon hours and never wish for an end. 

But there was to be a chorus. 

“ _Thomas…._ ”

It was a beautiful deep note as Thomas sank into him, Jimmy’s legs reaching up and around his hips and their chest crushed together as Thomas sank in deeper and foreheads met. Sweaty and Jimmy’s eyes were shining but he knew they match his own. They sighed and hummed. Jimmy let out another musical moan and nodded at Thomas. 

“Is it…” Thomas whispered at some point moments after he started moving.

“Better than the bloody dream….”


	26. Chapter 26

Thomas watched Jimmy let a tall black man into his room. He was by the mirror making sure his tie was straight because Jimmy kept yanking it, to pull Thomas into his space. To pull Thomas into yet another kiss and going on and on about their was no reason for the leave the room. But Thomas wanted to know more about Jimmy’s life in London, he wanted to get to know Cassandra at the least — and try to deal with is worry and jealousy of her. He wanted to see the Phoenix when it was empty and talk with Jimmy as he got ready for his performance that night. He wanted to have that moment with him, what so many others who walked through the Phoenix’s doors craved but only Thomas was allowed — at least for as long as he was in London. They were in London and he wanted to monopolize Jimmy’s time but he also wanted to know what his life was here. All of it. Even the things he thought he might hate, because envy was always simmering under his skin. 

So he pressed for them to leave the room one moment and then melted into Jimmy’s charms and his kisses, letting him undo his tie and push him onto the bed before some irritating sense of responsibility would remind him that the day was waning. 

But then a knock came at the door and broke into their bubble. And he felt an irrational spike of irritation that they’d been interrupted. His eyes fell back to the man and noted his height and his handsomeness. And he knew he was like him and Jimmy, everyone here was like them in some way — all of them outsiders, all of them finding a home with Cassandra — that was what Jimmy’s letters boiled down too. But Thomas was an outsider, but he knew who this man was — or who he was likely to be. It was an assumption, but it was a good one. There was familiarity in how he and Jimmy were speaking, and Thomas remembered him being downstairs with Jimmy last night a bass in his hands, not allowing Jimmy to interrupt their set and how he sang background vocals harmonizing with Jimmy’s voice. They were talking lowly and in some secret language of musicians about sets and keys and Thomas didn’t bother to try to follow it. It was hard to miss he was handsome. He was certain it was Elias and one of Jimmy's memories shared in a letter filled Thomas' mind.

_I thought I was going to get sick or freeze first on that deck, hiding on the boat. Was questioning my sanity, wondering if getting to America was worth maybe dying… I felt adrift and was so close to giving up. I wasn’t stealing enough food, it’d been days, and I’d already been going hungry. When I caught glimpses of my reflection, I looked wrong. I felt faded. But then Elias found me…_

_He wasn’t much better off, his and band were given the crappiest cabins because while they were working on the boat, playing for the rich who could afford the better cabins they were musicians and worse they were black. But they shared their food, him and the others — Fred and Robert. They let me sleep on their floor._

_But you can guess this — it was their music that really brought me back to life._

 

“Thomas?” Jimmy called his name. 

He was nervous he realized, but he kept his posture straight while fighting the urge to light a cigarette. Rubbing his fingers together wishing one already in his hand as he crossed the room, his Butler’s smile appearing on his face in an attempt to hide his nerves on meeting someone important to Jimmy. 

“This is Elias,” Jimmy said. “I’ve mentioned him…” he made a motion with hands that Thomas took to mean his letters. And he'd guessed correctly, this was Elias. A man who saved Jimmy. Who'd been his friend, more than one and possibly more than that...

Thomas felt torn between being annoyed that Jimmy had created himself a family in his absence and happiness for the fact. Thomas held out his hand and found himself getting a firm shake. He felt eyes on him, shrewd ones and he narrowed his own eyes as the met Elias’ unable to stop the negative energy flowing through him.

“Jimmy did you justice, you looked nearly exactly how I expected,” Elias said finally. 

“Do I?” 

“Indeed. Don’t expect he gave you much to go on about if mentioned me at all…” Elias laughed. 

“No, I know about you.”

Elias’ swung his head to look at Jimmy. 

“I told you, I’m telling him everything — albeit slowly, years are a lot to cover,” Jimmy said sheepishly. “And we haven’t had a chance to discuss anything in person… Yet.” He looked at Thomas and grinned. “But I think we have time.”

Time. Thomas wished he felt Jimmy certainty of it, all he could think when it was brought up was his time in London was finite. But he was curious, and he was possessive. He was half tempted to make Elias leave and close the door, but Jimmy was living a life he loved. And Thomas needed to know it. “Yes,” he said, agreeing because it was easier and because he wished it to be that simple. 

Elias nodded. “We’ve gotten in a few scraps.”

Thomas' eyes widened at that, and he shot Jimmy a look.

“You know me,” Jimmy shrugged. 

And he did, he knew him and his big mouth and tendency to gamble. Take risks and drink too much. He missed it all, he missed keeping his eye out and making sure nothing too awful would happen. Even if it met letting it happen to him instead. 

“No muggings,” Jimmy laughed knowing his train thought. 

Thomas laughed. 

“Muggings?” Elias looked at the two of them. “You haven’t shared all your stories,” he accused.

“As if you have…” 

“I wish to thank you,” Thomas said, unable to keep quiet about the biggest thing Jimmy shared about Elias. 

“Thank me?”

“You fed him and kept him warm.”

He saw it dawn on Elias what he meant and he shook his head at Thomas with a shrug. “Never leave a man alone when he down… that’ll come back around. Plus it worked out in my favor, never been kept in such steady work in me life. And it was good to be able to come home.” 

“You’ve been fine playing without me,” Jimmy muttered sounding uncharacteristically modest. 

“Oh, now I know he has an odd effect on you….” Elias said. “Usually his head is too big to get through the door. I’ll leave you two be…. See you downstairs in about two hours?” 

“Will do.”

“I look forward to it,” Thomas added the thought of watching Jimmy ready for the set filling him with pride and that want to know, to know what it was all like. He wanted to know everything. 

Jimmy closed the door behind his friend and turned. “You remembered that?”

“I practically memorized them all Jimmy….” He trailed off not wanting to put too much emphasis on how the letters were his lifeline back in Downton. 

“I do too, with yours…” Jimmy sighed. “We should talk… about things.”

Thomas shook his head not really knowing why, he wanted to have the discussions about Jimmy’s past, even about the things he wasn’t sure he wanted real details about… But he wanted no secrets between them because before Jimmy was hiding so much of himself. He wanted everything, but he wasn’t afraid of it all too. The residual anger, the fear, the possessiveness he felt. He didn’t want to scare Jimmy away. 

“Why not?”

Thomas sighed. “I just, it’s my first full day here, and I want to see your life now before we speak on the past.”

Jimmy nodded.

“And you said the most important thing you wanted on this visit was meeting Cassandra…” Thomas touched his face, his perfect face and stared down into his eyes. “And I want to give you what you want.”

Jimmy face turned pink, he swayed more into Thomas space and glanced at the bed behind them. His hands went Thomas tie and yanked at it, deftly, destroying his work with it — again. He met Thomas’ gaze with playful eyes. “I’m not ready to leave this room.” 

“Jimmy…”

“I’m not ready to share you,” He said and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I love my friends, Thomas but I don’t want them taking away your attention.”

“As if…”

“Shh… you would though, you’ll talk to them, even while you're eyeing them with that jealous glint…”

Thomas blushed and looked away. 

“I like it.”

“Do you?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

“It’s not pretty Jimmy…” Thomas shook his head.

“Oh, I know you can bite,” he answered, and Thomas felt himself fall onto the bed and wondered how they even moved. 

“I would too you know… I don’t want anyone else touching you, looking at you — if I ever met anyone from your past I would glare too, narrow eyes and make sure they knew.” 

Thomas closed his eyes as Jimmy crawled onto his lap and kissed his neck. “Knew…”

“Your mine and I’m yours.” 

He grabbed at Jimmy’s face then and stared right at him. “Did you?”

“With Elias?”

“Yes,” he whispered, afraid but needing to know. “Did you kiss him, did you fuck him?

“Never… he doesn’t find me very attractive.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy laughed cheekily. “Not that it matters because it’s a mutual feeling, he’s not for me. He’s important though. We’re a family, me and my band.”

Family. What was it? He thought sometimes he had it at Downton — now, years later than maybe it should’ve happened. But he was never sure, always afraid one cross word, or bad mood and all of it would crumble at his feet. But it never stopped him from being foul, even if it was followed by a genuine apology when he saw he stepped over a line. _Family_. Envy made him kiss Jimmy roughly.


	27. Chapter 27

_When you meet Cass, don’t try to figure her out, just let her **be**. Which she will, she doesn’t know how not to have a presence… Reminds of the Dowager in that way. You’ll know she is in the room with you, even if she’s not saying a word. Her eyes are always seeing. Better than most. More than most. Just don’t have any expectations, Thomas. I’m not describing her to you in anyway just my experience. And I don’t think any of us have the same one. _

Thomas stared at the space where Jimmy been standing with betrayal. Elias had shown up talking about the piano breaking a string, and Jimmy turned to him and said he had to deal with it — he didn’t trust anyone else with is piano. And Thomas thought about the clocks at Downton Abbey and gave a smile of understanding. 

“She’ll be here soon anyway…” Jimmy smirked then before taking off. 

He was alone in her room. Her. No, Cassandra… Jimmy never mentioned a last name? Had he? No he all he had gotten was snippets of this colorful and wise character. Someone that sounded like a character in some fanciful novel. Nothing real, nothing he could prepare for and hadn’t Jimmy just whispered to him not to try. He written it too, Thomas remembered. His gaze slowly went around the bedroom — which was strange for him. He was standing in a strange woman’s bedroom. It made him scratch at his collar, and he could see the face Carson would make in this situation. That made him roll his eyes and remind himself that he wasn’t in that world. He was in Downton Abbey. He was in an establishment meant for men and women like him, he was in a place made to be a safe home for people of like minds — for people who fit nowhere else. 

He could be in Cassandra’s room with no worries because he’d been invited, it was probably as close to normal as things were inside the Phoenix. He looked around and ignore Jimmy’s warnings. He needed to be prepared. The bed was unmade, and it was all colorful blankets and golden sheets. He looked at the mess of it. It looked as if she slept in the center, not keeping to any side and she kicked the blankets towards the foot of the bed, but nearly as much as he was prone to do. Maybe she was a calmer sleeper? He wondered what that was like? His mind was always waking him in the night, questions and worries spinning around. 

Well, not last night… He thought and smiled as the memory of slowing waking surface. When was the last time that happened? Had it ever? He couldn’t recall the feeling, it’d been new and wonderful. It had smelled like Jimmy and been warm because of his skin. He wished they were back there, but the night loomed. Jimmy had a show to perform, hours, and Thomas was both looking forward to it and dreading it. He’d want to be next to him on the piano. He missed those days, night after night next to Jimmy at the piano downstairs at Downton. Watching him playing, having his hands grabbed and placed on keys — Jimmy showing him simple melodies. 

“You’re in a daydream.” 

He turned around and saw her. In a dressing gown, straight hair down to her waist and wide brown eyes. He blinked a few times, she seemed younger than the night before. It felt an extreme difference, and he recalled Jimmy’s first mentions of her. His genuine smile from thoughts about Jimmy fade and his Butler’s smile formed. He had a feeling he’d be wearing it a lot in the next few days, and he felt awkward, realizing he should have lit a cigarette before she arrived, so he had something to do with his hand. 

She was staring at him, eyes roving and she seemed to leer after a moment. “You’re more handsome than Jimmy conveyed…I suspect he was holding back.” 

He felt his face warm, and he shook his head. 

“Modesty? Now, from what I know that’s unexpected.”

“And what is it you know?” he asked. 

“What is you know, Thomas?” she returned and then turned to close her door. “Where is Jimmy?”

“There was an issue with the piano.”

“His baby… He’s named you know, you might be able to get it out of him and then you should tell me.”

“Why would I break his trust for you?” he instantly snapped. 

Her smile grew and showed quite a lot of white teeth. “Ah, yes, why indeed?” 

Thomas sighed because he wanted this to go well and this felt as if it wasn’t, or that he couldn’t. He felt lost as to what to do, being personable was never a strength of his and usually, go for idle gossip and try to use his smile to his advantage. Sometimes it fooled people, and sometimes it didn’t… though eventually he always tipped his hand. Let show something he didn’t want known, and then people would look at him with dislike or distrust — or both. “Surprised he hasn’t told you himself.”

“Oh, he tells me little. I guess a lot.” 

“Really? He told you he shared quite a bit about me with you.”

“Oh, well that was different. He was a lost boy, and he needed a star to guide him.”

“Is that what you are?”

“I don’t know, tell me if you figure it out? What are you?”

“I’m a butler.”

“Oh please… No, you’re not.” 

He blinked at her and shook his head. “Yes, I am.”

“It’s what you do, Thomas.”

“It’s…” he felt uncomfortable. “It’s more than that, I assure you.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head and stared at him. 

“Yes.”

“Downton Abbey is it? That’s your home?”

“I…” he stammered and thought about Jimmy. 

“I thought so,” she said, and she closed the space between them and grabbed his hands. “He tells me you love him, too deeply, too much, more than he’s worth.”

“He’s worth everything,” Thomas argued. “He’s worth more than me.”

“Isn’t that the truth of true love…” she smiled sadly. “I haven’t felt that yet.”

“Felt what?”

“Loving someone more than I love me. I love me quite a bit.” 

“I’m sure you’ll meet him.”

“Or her…” she dropped his hands. “If such a creature exists.” 

“Mine does. He’s mine,” his voice was dark. 

She met his eyes, and he was struck by how dark they were, and she nodded. “I know. Known that quite some time. No need to be possessive.”

He stood his ground. 

“He’s like brother… or a son… I can’t seem to decide,” she said. “But he’s not a lover.” 

“Good.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “You’ll like me in the end.”

“Will I?”

“You're lost, that’s all.” 

“I’m not lost.”

“But aren’t you?”

“I have Jimmy,” he blurted out. “He’s everything.”

She grinned at him, a light in her expression and a kindness. For the second time, he found himself thinking about Sybil, and it made him step backward and away from her. How could she be anything like Sybil? 

“You have that look,” she sighed and shook her head. “It’s almost exactly like Jimmy’s face when I remind him of you, and he gets all put out.” 

Thomas laughed, remembering how often Jimmy remarked she would remind him of Thomas. How it never made sense, not like when she reminded him of his mum. “Sybil Crawley. You remind me of her…”

“And who was she?” 

“Who was… Lady Sybil Crawley the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham.”

“Ah yes… who you Butler for… Didn’t she marry a chauffeur?”

“Mr. Branson is more than that…” and his eyes widened because he hadn’t a good opinion of Tom Branson in the past. It only changed recently when he was looking at those around him, in his home, differently as he fought to be a better man.

“Must’ve been to marry someone who means so much to you? How did that come about?”

“She… Was kind and gentle. Always without fail, and she knew.”

“Knew what?”

“About Edward and how I felt, she was there for me after his death.”

“You loved him?”

“I wanted to… I wanted to love and had no idea of what it was until Jimmy.”

“Hmmm… Maybe you can help me know it, someday.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Jimmy told me you told him he loved me.”

“Oh, that’s different. When it’s someone else… but Jimmy’s worthless on explaining it. He just talks about how amazing you are.”

“And you think my explanations would be different?”

“He’s only loved himself and you…. You’ve tried it on a few time haven’t you?”

“I…” he sputtered.

“You’ve tried on quite a lot of things, and you’re still playing pretend.”

“What?”

“Don’t you remember… You aren’t a Butler, Thomas.”

“I am,” he argued.

“No…” she tilted her head again. “You’re grasping at sand.”

He stared at her and struggled to believe she wasn’t making sense. But something inside him knew she was, she was making perfect sense despite sounding dafter than hell. 

“When do you leave?”

“Too soon.”

“When I said home, you thought of him.”

“Of course.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You’re more than expected and I feel quite a fool. I should’ve known. Jimmy’s quite more than his face relays and so are you. You two are have hidden depths and secrets. But you won’t lie to him, just yourself. He knows that… It took him too long to stop it. I told him to write you sooner. Have you fully forgiven him?”

Thomas swallowed and tried to lie. 

“You will.”

He felt vulnerable and wanted to hide, but he found he couldn’t because she was looking at him in the Sybil way. “I need too.”

“No, you want too… Feelings are more complicated than need, sometimes they just are, doesn’t mean we have to let them bully us. You want too and you will. You strike me as the stubborn type, Thomas.” 

He stood there and agreed with her but felt to awkward to speak it and he shifted on his feet and wondered what to do with his hands again. 

“Light us both a cigarette will you?”

He breathed out in relief. Hands sliding into his pockets and finding only his pack of cigarettes. He smirked and shook his head. “Jimmy,” fell from his lips fondly and he looked up at his… well, his hostess really. “I’m without a light.” 

“Oh, well, let’s see…” she walked past him and to a bureau. “Here, a man who wanted me to marry me gave me this… Despite him thinking the habit was quite disgusting in a lady.” 

Thomas took the offered lighter. It was engraved with a filigree design and looked quite expensive. Everything in the room did, he thought as he looked around. She was someone, Jimmy implied it, but he felt it now. “Who are you?”

She gave him a wide smile, but her eyes betrayed nothing. “Cassandra is all you need to know.”

“Very well then…” he said and lit two cigarettes. He handed one over to her and then inhaled deeply on his. Eyes sliding closed and he held it in his lungs for a moment before letting it curl out of his mouth. He met eyes watching him curiously, and they were shining. 

She gave another genuine grin and nodded. “He’s quite right, you smoke rather dramatically.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“It’s beautiful, though… for such a bad habit.”

“It’s not a habit,” he argued. 

“No, not for you maybe — a lifeline?”

He felt too seen suddenly and looked way, focusing on the cigarette, relief flooding him for being able to fall into the habit. It grounded him, and it was proving her point. 

“I think you should go downstairs now… We’ll talk with Jimmy later, over dinner. I’ve set it up for the three of us to eat before the doors opened. Unfortunately, I have to go meet with Peter and deal with the irritations of running on club….” She waved her hands towards her door. “Shoo.”

He never felt so dismissed in his life, not even when the Dowager herself dismissed him from a room. But it was different too, he felt dismissed, shooed — but she was looking at him like he was important like she wanted to know him. This was simply her being busy. She smiled at him, not at all put out he wasn’t listening, wasn’t moving. Instead, she stepped forward and hooked their arms and walked him to the door of her bedroom. 

“He’ll have got caught up in music things, you know how he is… go distract him because he’s been looking forward to this since the moment he left you in Downton all those weeks ago.” 

“Me too,” Thomas found himself admitting. 

“I know,” she grinned at him, and she was Sybil again. She kissed his cheek. “Now shoo.” 

He found himself laughing as he was on the other side of the door and it closed in his face. He shook his head a bit but felt his mouth curl into a smirk. He thought maybe it went well, despite at times he’d been so sure it’d spin into a bad conversation. She was… not at all what he expected and everything he had expected all in one. He wasn’t quite sure why she was so dear to Jimmy, but he understood it more now.


	28. Chapter 28

Jimmy’s eyes closed as Thomas' hands thudded against his back, stroking down. He knows he’s wiping off imaginary lint and straightening the lines because Thomas is a perfectionist and fussy, but he’s touching him. And Jimmy’s a live wire, has been since morning when Thomas took him apart and then held him as somehow managed come back down to the ground. But his heart hadn’t stopped rushing in his ears. He opened his eyes as Thomas appeared in front of him his hands going to Jimmy’s tie. His eyes looked down at those hands, and he gritted his teeth, having to do something physical to stop himself from pushing Thomas backward. The bed was right behind them, it was right there, it was all neat and well-made because of Thomas. His whole room was quietly straightened out and better organized in less than twenty-four hours. It felt right, and it felt amazing. He never wanted to leave the room again — not when Thomas was in it. He closed his eyes again and pushed away the knowledge he would be leaving. Because he wanted to be in the moment, in the now and to enjoy every signal second. He almost wished he didn’t have to go downstairs, that he didn’t have to play for everyone….

Almost. Because he wanted to show off too, he wanted to show for Thomas because Thomas would get that look on his face that told him he was impressed with Jimmy, that he was proud and then he’d get that smile. That smile that said he was smitten. It was the smile that was only for him, he was only one who could make Thomas’ face light up. It was powerful, and it made his blood rush, and most of the time he never quite believed it was true. Probably why he kept making it happen, maybe someday he’d believe he was the man Thomas saw.

“You’re miles away?”

“No, I’m definitely right here,” Jimmy said. “Part of me doesn’t want to go on tonight.”

“Are you unwell?” Thomas laughed. 

“Oh, I’m a healthy boy… want to push you backward.” His hands went to Thomas’ hips. “Shove you on the bed.”

Thomas blushed, and Jimmy licked his bottom lip. 

“But…”

“You want to show off.”

“Yeah, there is this one person I really love playing the piano for… he gets this look in his eyes, and I feel like I’m the most talented person in existence.”

“Who is he? I might have to kill him,” Thomas smirked as he trailed a hand down Jimmy’s tie. “Perfect,” he mumbled as he checked the knot with his other hand. 

“Missed you doing this, making sure I was perfect.”

“You’re meant to look, smart,” Thomas said his eyes on Jimmy’s face. 

“You aren’t shabby, Thomas Barrow,” Jimmy reached up and grabbed him by his tie.

“Oi, don’t mess it up.”

“I want to mess you up,” Jimmy said, yanking and pressing their mouths together. They kissed, deeply and Jimmy felt that hunger, that wasn’t going to go away he thought, then he was sighing as Thomas pulled away. 

“We can’t…” he huffed out his tone rough with irritation. 

“Not yet,” Jimmy said. “After.”

“After I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you…” Thomas said. 

“I know.” He grinned. 

Thomas frowned. 

“What?”

“I won’t be the only one, wanting to touch you…”

Jimmy shrugged. “Only one who gets too.”

“You’re mine,” Thomas hissed, and his mouth was on Jimmy’s jaw. 

“I promised didn’t I?”

“Hmm…” Thomas hummed as he mouth pressed under his jaw.

Jimmy's hands flexed on his hips, and he found himself pushing Thomas away. “Come on… I’ll make everyone else in the room jealous.”

“Will you?”

“I’ll be staring at you the whole night.”

Thomas blushed. 

“They’ll know, I’m all yours.”

“Good.”

Jimmy nodded and grabbed Thomas hand. “Come on, I do need to get down there.” 

“Wait my tie…” Thomas exclaimed.

“Fussy,” Jimmy laughed and turned toward him again his hands went up.

Thomas huffed and tried to move his hands away. “The mirror.”

“You know, I know I was never a lofty valet for an Earl, but I can tie a tie…” Jimmy slapped Thomas hands away. “I’m quite good at it.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll be quite respectable you'll see,” he said as he fixed the knot, he hadn’t loosened it too much. Not near enough really, he loved Thomas with his tie loose around his neck. He remembered staring at the flash of neck that would peek out when Thomas loosened up in the servant’s hall at Downton Abbey. He remembered how awkward it’d made him feel and how he shoved it away and not allowed himself to chase the feeling. To figure it out. His chest turned heavy, and guilt about his idiocy rushed him. 

“Hey, why did you face fall?”

“I just…” Jimmy sighed and stared into the gray eyes he loved so much that always looked at him and saw someone better. “Happy you’re here.” 

“Me too,” Thomas breathed.

“Downstairs,” Jimmy sighed and finished straightening the tie. 

Thomas nodded and took Jimmy’s hand again. Jimmy grinned and led Thomas out of the room and downstairs. It was soppy, he realized, and he would be getting ribbing for it. How they kept holding hands and touching, how they kept staring at each other. And in the past he’d care what people thought, afraid to be called soft and daft. Afraid that people might see his heart and know how fragile it could be. It scared him, still, but not because of people seeing it, of how easily he knew Thomas could shatter him. 

Thomas could’ve hated him. Maybe should’ve hated him. He was forgiving him unforgivable things, and he wasn’t at all sure he was deserving, but he knew he was greedy and selfish enough to take it. He found someone who loved him completely before he even knew half of who he was… 

How was that his luck to have? 

What had he done?

It must’ve been in another life. 

~~~

Jimmy sighed as Thomas stepped away from him. He was on his little stage, standing by the piano, his band setting up around him. Thomas wasn’t going far away, he was going to the same table he’d been at all the other times he’d been in The Phoenix. Talking to that seeming stuffy but nice looking couple and their irritating friend Stanley. He laughed as Thomas gave Stanley a glare in returned as he sat down. Jimmy winked at Thomas, shooting him a cocky smile and Thomas smirked at him and then coolly lit a cigarette. 

“Jimmy,” Elias called his name.

“What?” he snapped. 

Elias shook his head at him and laughed. “I thought I knew how smitten you were that man, but now having seen the two of you together. Thinking I don’t understand love songs at all.”

Jimmy scoffed but knew his cheeks were betraying them, he felt heat flaming off of his skin. “I know what love songs mean.”

“Good thing too, you have to sing them.”

“He’s going to be soft and croon at him all night isn’t he?” Carl asked from where he stood behind Elias tuning his saxophone. 

“It’ll rile all his little followers up.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. 

“Wish I had some followers.”

“You do,” Jimmy said. Because he might have the bulk of them, but he knew Elias and Carl had their own little followers. 

“Maybe so… oh look Cassandra’s cornering him.”

Jimmy's head turned quickly. Cassandra pulled up a seat next to Thomas and was nicking a cigarette off of him. He watched them and felt his heart hammer a bit. He wanted them to get along — no he needed it. She was family to him, everyone was, but she was more than the rest. And Thomas, Thomas was everything. Everything. And his everything needed to get along with her because she’d helped him see himself. So he could give it Thomas, could finally gift Thomas what he deserved. 

Not that he deserved him. 

“Are they getting along?” Elias asked. 

Jimmy watched Thomas as he rolled his eyes and smirked at something Cass was saying. She seemed to be whispering in his ear and glancing past Thomas’ face. He followed it and saw Stanley sitting, staring right at him, he cringed a bit as he accidentally made eye contact with him. Then he heard Thomas laugh and his eyes flew back to him. This time he stilled as he and Thomas’ eyes met and he was staring into mirthful gray. He winked at him and grinned wider as Thomas blushed. Cass said something else to Thomas, and he laughed. Which was beautiful and Jimmy felt something settle despite seeing the wariness in Thomas’ expression as he listened to her. He didn’t hate Cassandra and Jimmy wasn’t going to ask for more than that — not so soon. Thomas wasn’t the type to easily like people, it wasn’t in his nature which he came by honestly. How could he simply trust anyone? 

Jimmy sighed as Elias put a hand on his shoulder. 

“We gotta start, boss.”

He nodded and slipped onto the piano bench. He took a deep breath, hit a key on the piano to help center himself and switched into the role he was to play for the night. One that wasn’t for the crowd in front of him, no his audience was for one tonight — but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be obnoxious, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show off to his best ability. No, he was going to put out all the stops to get Thomas to reveal that smile, the one that was only for him, he wanted everyone to see it and wish it aimed at them. But it was only for him, and all his music was only for Thomas. 

Someday maybe he’d tell Thomas the ones he wrote himself. Were all about him. To see the look of disbelief and shock in his eyes and on his jaw. Then he'd prove it to him it was true. He pressed down the keys to start one, to sing it directly the man it belonged to.

Jimmy wanted to do this every night, he thought as Thomas’ gaze locked on him, and a familiar expression slid over his expression. The one that meant he was listening contently to the music Jimmy made. He missed those nights when Thomas sat next to him on the piano bench. He hadn’t known back at Downton how important those moments been. How it’d been them in their own world. And really you didn’t fall into your own world with just anyone… 

He played, and he sang, and he locked in that gray gaze. And he wanted this, he wanted this every damn night and his heart pounded as it reminded him that Thomas was leaving. But he shoved it aside because he lived by moments and it wasn’t that moment yet. 

Jimmy played away the dread of it.


	29. Chapter 29

Jimmy blinked a bit as he stepped into The Phoenix after running a quick errand. Thomas was in the middle of the main floor, standing in front of one of the larger tables, with a ruler in his hand. He was pointing it at the piles of linen on the table and giving a speech that was very reminiscent of Carson — though Jimmy would never bring that up to him.

“He’s quite bossy,” Cassandra’s voice was in his ear. 

“Maybe. Knows what he’s about, though.” 

“Yes, I dare say he does….” Cass nodded, her eyes on Thomas, a spark in them that made Jimmy feel unsettled. He glanced from her back to Thomas, saw him explaining a few things, then barking so orders, his eyes following the waitstaff as they moved — more efficiently and swiftly than he ever seen them run for Peter. But that was Thomas, Jimmy thought, endlessly efficient. So perfect at it that the Crawley’s and Carson never realized just how much he got done and ensured that things worked like clockwork…

Though maybe the house knew that now, maybe they figured out that Abbey became chaos without Thomas deft hand. Maybe he was finally appreciated now that he was the Butler. He seemed happier, happier than when Jimmy knew him — there was a comfort in his own skin that Jimmy knew hadn’t been there before he left. All the darkness, all the blood, and all the pain. Jimmy hated Thomas went through it, but it did seem he’d come out of it more whole. And maybe he was being appreciated, finally, for all that he gave Downton Abbey. 

He frowned. He was leaving soon. Too soon. Back there. Suddenly, Jimmy wanted to cross the room, he wanted to pluck the bloody ruler out of Thomas' hand, stop the pointers he was giving the waitstaff to lay a perfect table — and take him upstairs, to their — no his — bed… 

And maybe tie him there so he could never leave. His face flamed at the images provoked and he clutched his hands in and out of a fist. Cassandra’s hooked her arm with is, and she made a sound in his ear. “What?” he barked at her. 

“As endearing as possessiveness looks on you, I want to watch this…”

“Watch what? That?” He watched as Thomas picked up a wine glass, made a face and grabbed a piece of cloth to polish it with. “Why is Thomas doing this anyway?”

“Oh, because I locked Peter in the closet in my room.”

“You what now?”

“I locked him in, made sure the tables were in disarray and made sure when Thomas walked down the stairs he saw me yelling at a poor waiter about where Peter was and how we’re opening early tonight… and oh dear the whole place is in chaos…” she faked a look of horror and put a hand to her chest. 

“I hope your acting as better than that…”

“It was impeccable, what do take me for…”

“You locked him in your closet.”

“He was nattering, he was annoying me and well… I wanted to see what your man would do.”

“Why?”

“Oh, dear, isn’t that obvious?”

Jimmy stared at her.

She laughed a loud trill and patted his cheek. “You sweet, stupid boy.” 

“You know you’re taking time away from me with him…”

“Oh, please, he’ll have this sussed out and done soon enough. He’s quite quick, they’re listening to him too… they aren’t intimated by Peter, but then no one would be would they…”

“I…”

“You’ll have plenty of time alone with him before your set — you can do whatever it was that you blushing like a virgin.”

“Cass,” he mumbled feeling caught, but that didn’t stop the images from flying back into his mind. Finding any way he could to keep Thomas in his bed, trapped and never-leaving. 

“When is he returning home?” 

He flinched at her question. 

“Soon isn’t it?”

He focused his eyes on her, glaring but she held the eye contact. A million things going on behind her eyes and in her expression. He glared harder and knew she was keeping things from him. Thoughts and judgments. Her Cassandra Opinions. He scowled. “Doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“Matters to you, when is it?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Jimmy muttered, the information popping up into his brain unbidden. He wished he could forget, pretend it wasn’t coming and that Thomas could stay… 

Why should he leave?

“Well… he’s almost got the room looking, well quite classier than usual…. I’ll have to be up Peter’s ass to make sure he doesn’t ruin it. Well, I’ve just gone and ruined my night by playing this experiment, haven’t I?”

“If the shoe fits,” Jimmy muttered, not at all feeling sorry for her. He wasn’t sure why she’d played the little game in the first place.

“Be a dear and go let him out… I don’t want him to know it was me.”

“I don’t want to deal with him.”

“I’ll send Thomas upstairs, go on, be dear.”

Jimmy met her gaze again, and her eyes were twinkling, and he got lost in the shine of it for a minute. He laughed as he heard Thomas curtail someone from putting the wrong fork on a table. All fussy and right. He glanced over at him, and Thomas was explaining the difference in the forks to the poor waiter. More patiently then Jimmy ever heard Carson do it… And it was strange because his tone brooked no argument but it was kind, it wasn’t bossy, he was just explaining why it had to be that fork. 

Though why the hell different food needed different forks was something Jimmy never figured out and why he sucked as a footman. He questioned it, and he knew Thomas did too… but he pushed that away and played the game. 

Because he had too.

Jimmy frowned. 

Thomas Barrow shouldn’t be doing anything because he had too…

“Jimmy… get Peter and stop drooling.”

“I’m not…” Jimmy tore his gaze away from Thomas. “I was not drooling. Fine, I’ll go rescue him and stop your weird experiment.”

Cassandra kissed his cheek and smiled. 

Jimmy made his way upstairs, he heard Peter yelling for help, sounding like he thought he was going to die if the door wasn’t opened soon. The panicked sounds probably should’ve made Jimmy feel back for him but the guy was douche and prick, and honestly, no one liked him. His bandmates were sitting at the top of the stairs, laughing at Peter’s cries… 

“She said not to open the door,” Elias said when he saw Jimmy.

“I know, I’m here to rescue him,” he rolled his eyes. 

“Your man is down there doing his job.”

“I know.”

“That what she wanted?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Huh,” Elias gave him a look.

“What?”

“When is he leaving?”

Jimmy gritted his teeth. “People need to stop bringing that up…” he stomped into Cassandra’s room and up to her closet. He yanked the door open and snapped. “What are you doing lazing about in here, it’s almost opening time, you twat.” 

Peter huffed. “I didn’t lock myself in here on purpose.”

“Well, seems like this kind of thing takes some talent.”

“Someone locked me in.”

Jimmy snorted. “Whatever, Cass is mad, better get downstairs.”

Peter huffed again and scurried out of the room. 

Jimmy sighed and made his way back to their — his — room. He frowned as stepped inside of it. His usual mess gone, everything tidy and in its place. It was full of Thomas. Books in neat piles, instead of a heaps of mess. Jimmy’s music in neat piles as well and he walked over to the sheets and noted Thomas may have straightened it up, but he hadn’t put a paper out of place — they were in the nonlinear order Jimmy needed them to be to help him suss out the song. He swallowed over a lump in his throat…

His room would be a mess again soon. 

~~~

Thomas was being watched. More so than Jimmy. He blushed furiously but slipped on his best smirk, and his least modest expression. If they wanted to look, let them, if the crowd was surmising correctly why Jimmy was late to his own set…

It was an odd feeling. Outside the walls of The Phoenix, he’d be frightened, terrified. Back home, he would make sure everything looked and seemed — appropriate. That they were just two men, walking in the same direction and not at all together. Every stare worried him. Every possible bit of gossip rushed through his mind. Appearances were more important than the truth. 

But not here. As he took his seat at his usual table, Gregory gave him a cheeky smile. “Kept him to yourself a bit long didn’t you?” To his left, Sebastian let out a put-upon sigh….

Thomas found himself preening in Sebastian’s direction, he couldn’t quite help himself. He liked letting everyone looking Jimmy was his… he found it heady, it made him feel special, and he loved the power of that. He was the lucky one after all. He had what so many of them craved. The beautiful man, with the beautiful voice, who made beautiful music. Jimmy was perfect and he was Thomas’. He found the possession, comfortable and right, it felt right being proud of him and showing it.

And Jimmy let him show him off, and Thomas thought a time or two, that maybe Jimmy was showing him off. That Jimmy felt just as possessive of him, the way he’d been pounced on merely an hour ago seemed to prove it. Jimmy impatient and angry he’d been doing Peter’s job. Muttering things about wanting to kill Cassandra for her little dumb games…. 

He hadn’t understood, tried too but then Jimmy’s hand wrapped around his cock, and he forgot his own name. They hadn’t left the bed until there was a loud knock and Elias angrily growled they were on ten minutes ago… 

Jimmy scowled the entire time they dressed. Kept threatening to push Thomas back onto the bed. But Thomas whispered in his ear that he wanted to play, he wanted to show off. Thomas promised watching Jimmy play always got him aroused and how nice it was to finally be able to act on it once the music stopped…

Jimmy was smiling now, putting on a show, but genuinely enjoying the act. Thomas could see it the depth of his smile, the shine in his eyes but importantly he heard it in the music. 

“You’re leaving soon?” Albert’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

He hadn’t forgotten, but it felt like cold water being splashed on him. He turned toward Albert, and the man’s face fell, and he looked guilty. 

“Stuck your foot in it, Albert,” the man muttered.

Gregory put his hand on the back of Albert’s neck. Thomas watched him calmly stroke him down, offering support, even though out loud he agreed with Albert. “We’ll miss spending time with you is what he meant to be saying…”

“Speak for yourselves,” Sebastian muttered jealously. 

“Don’t listen to Sebastian, he’s getting over his broken heart.”

“Is he. I never did,” Thomas said to taunt Sebastian and because he felt it. He never did when it came to Jimmy. This time in London, behind these safe walls felt like a dream. A fantasy. It was in a way and made more so by the fact he was merely visiting. 

Fantasies didn’t become reality. 

Not the Phoenix was perfect. They did have to worry, he’d been present earlier in the day while Cassandra paid off but also charmed the nice police officer. Somehow she made the man look guilty for taking the bribe, saying it was fine and he would keep away the people that needed to be kept away… 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. It was warm, the air was comfortable. No one felt turned away, Thomas could tell, the clientele was eclectic, but they all shared something. Being outsiders. 

Thomas felt at home. Even when Jimmy was too far away for his liking. Like he was now, all the way at the piano. Thomas still felt at home. At this table with Albert and Gregory — even Sebastian. But it was the couple that he liked, it was them he’d found a lot of common ground with. They were becoming friends, Thomas thought…

Something so rare for him, something he often told himself he could live without. He frowned and softened his features as he looked at Albert. “Too soon.”

“You’ll come back, of course,” Gregory offered.

“Yes,” Thomas said quickly, but the problem was he didn’t know when and wouldn’t for quite some time. Taking time away like this couldn’t become a regular happening. It just wasn’t feasible. He started toying with his napkin, closed his eyes and just concentrated on Jimmy’s voice. Soon he was lost in that… it was always so easy to get lost in Jimmy. He’d worry about reality later.


	30. Chapter 30

Thomas couldn’t quite help himself, he’d gone through the kitchen and the backrooms. Ignoring Peter’s annoyed glares and helped, directed the clean up that followed the night in the club. He helped set it all up after all, and he couldn’t help but notice that Peter’s way of organizing was what led to all the disorganization he’d seen earlier in the day. He rolled his eyes a bit and thought maybe he’d mention what he was thinking to Cassandra… 

But the music distracted him. Or more importantly, the music reminded him why he was here, in this place. _Jimmy._ Ignoring one of the waitstaff asking him a question he wandered into the main floor of the Phoenix. Jimmy was alone at the piano. He recognized the pattern of what Jimmy was doing if not the melody. He was fiddling around, trying out sounds that were rattling around in his clever head. Thomas smiled more as he closed the distance between them, his ears focusing in on the sounds. 

It was joy. Trilling and lively notes, it felt warm, like a summer wind. There was something about it all that reminded Thomas of home. He slid on the piano bench, and Jimmy glanced at him, a huge smile on his face as he went back to the tune. Thomas stared at his face, at his grin. It was wide, his mouth curled up — something Thomas had never witnessed until Jimmy walked back into his life and somehow ended up in his bed. He felt his own mouth, already smiling, twitching more upward as well. He loved that smile on Jimmy’s face, he liked knowing it had something to do with him…as he gazed at him, enraptured by the sight and the sound of the piano he realized it was his smile that Jimmy was playing. 

Joy. Genuine, sincere, happy and honest. Pure and bright. It was different from the past. Their past. At Downton Abbey, at that old piano, where Jimmy’s music was different. In their past, the music was confused, muddled, and sad…

It was dark at times. Angry hard notes.

Thomas had found it all beautiful. Thomas had thought it all just for them because he was only one who seemed to know that music told a story of the layers Jimmy hid behind his cocky smiles and natural charm. Thomas knew it all went deeper… 

But he hadn’t understood the confusion. Not really. He’d thought he had, but he’d been clueless. He’d thought it was Jimmy’s youth, he’d thought it’d been Jimmy feeling trapped at Downton. But now he knew the real reason. The epiphany uncoiled his bones now and stared at Jimmy like he was seeing him for the first time. There was the same zap, he’d felt all those years ago in the servant’s hall. The knowing that Jimmy was important, that he was beautiful and that he knew him. He already knew him. And yet now he knew him more — and every day it was more. But he was always something more, something that Thomas always sought and wanted. Known in his bones that belonged to him, even though he'd never seen him before. 

He’d tried to tell himself for years that feeling was silly romanticization. He thought it had to have been since he lost Jimmy. But he’d come back to him — taken his bloody time — but he came back to Thomas. And here he was again, seeing Jimmy anew… another secret, another layer, a deeper understanding of their past. Of the muddle melodies, that no matter how beautiful they were also haunting Thomas thoughts…

He knew now what Jimmy’s soul was trying to figure out. And he finally had — he finally had and was sitting next to Thomas. He was playing something full of joy, ecstatic happiness. It was floating around them. Thomas felt spun about, his mind in both places. The past and the present. He let out a breath and almost reached out to touch Jimmy, but he stopped himself. He inhaled the breath he’d lost and stared at the smiling and secure man at the piano. He gazed at Jimmy, who been this lost kid trying to come to terms with pieces of himself at Downton Abbey. For the first time, Thomas felt like he understood why Jimmy’s journey needed to happen out of Thomas’ sight. He was always part of the problem, he been next to him, at the piano as he tried to pour the confusion into notes. Thomas had been enthralled by it, but it’d been anger, confusion and being able to acknowledge. Jimmy always wanted him, and maybe he had to know it wasn’t just about Thomas to fully come to terms with it. To truly know if Thomas was his one… 

And he was. He was Jimmy’s, like Jimmy was his. 

The one. 

Thomas licked his lips, huffed out a quiet laugh and realized he didn’t have to stop. He didn’t have to keep his hand on his thigh, in a slight fist. He didn’t have to curb the impulse, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t want to touch. This wasn’t years ago at the Abbey. This wasn’t Jimmy pounding out an lament of anger and confusion. He wasn’t breaking Thomas’ heart at this moment, he wasn’t something unattainable. Jimmy was playing with joy and pure abandon. He was smiling, and he looked utterly pleased with himself. So beautifully smug and Thomas reached out, his hand sliding onto Jimmy’s thigh.

The music faltered, for a second, and Jimmy glanced at him as he moved closer to Thomas, putting their legs flush against each other. Thomas slid his hand higher up on Jimmy’s thigh. Jimmy's eyes slid closed, but he kept playing. Thomas closed his own eyes and let the lightness of the melody rush through him and take away the past version of them.

The confusion, anger. The denial. The space between them used to feel like a wall. All of that wasn’t the current reality, and Thomas let the music allow that memory fade away. Then his eyes opened and stared, openly at the reality he’d been gifted with. Jimmy grinning, cocky and pleased, with his eyes twinkling with joy and his hands creating sounds of love and happiness. 

Jimmy played on until the notes seemed to fall into a natural ending. Thomas hadn’t clue if it was moments or an hour. He was too transfixed. Jimmy turned as he finished and seemed to smile ever wider. Thomas knew he was matching it and sighed when Jimmy grabbed the hand that was on his thigh and linked their fingers, clasping their hands tightly together. 

“Hiya,” Jimmy said. 

“Hello,” Thomas returned. “That was different,” he cocked his head at the piano.

“Was it?”

“Then I remember from before… back at Downton.” 

“I’ve more practice, better at the creating my own…”

“No, you were always brilliant at that… not what I meant,” Thomas said, shaking his head. 

“What then?”

He sighed, unsure why he brought it up but he felt compelled to. “You played differently, yes, but it was always bloody brilliant,” he was repeating himself, but it felt warranted. Jimmy’s grin went a bit smug, and Thomas couldn’t help but love it. “It was confused, your songs, they were confused, sad and angry back then.”

Jimmy gripped Thomas hand tighter with his own, fingers squeezing and he nodded. “I was angry almost all the time back then — only moments I wasn’t was when I was alone with you, and you’d make me forget. But it’d come slamming back the moment the door closed on my room, and I was alone again. Sometimes it'd be worse…” Jimmy shook his head. “You irritated me, confounded me but… couldn’t give you up.”

“Never do,” Thomas asked.

“Never will,” Jimmy moved, swinging one leg over the bench, moving so he was fully facing Thomas. Thomas found himself mirroring his movement. Soon both their hands were clasped together, and their foreheads were touching. 

They did nothing but breathe and smile for a spell. 

“I wrote a lot of pining love songs in America,” Jimmy laughed. “Sad songs and melancholy refrains. Got asked all the time who the woman was and sometimes I'd lie...wasn’t ready to admit it myself yet… but whenever I went far enough in the lie to describe _her_ I was always describing you.”

Thomas huffed out a laugh. “And they never noticed you were describing a man?”

“No… and the thing was, I was just describing who you were and the more it happened, the more I accepted it was you all the songs were about, the more I was honest about who it was — without letting them know it wasn’t a woman but man. At least until Cass called me out on it before Cass called me out on using her friend.” 

“What did you say?” Thomas asked.

“About you?”

“Yes?”

Jimmy grinned and pressed his forehead against Thomas a bit harder. “Well, men like knowing what women look like… So, I’d start out saying you were tall, with dark hair and beautiful gray eyes.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“I’d get some looks about the eyes, but I told them all the next time it stormed outside to look at the storm clouds and tell me they aren’t beautiful.” 

“Poet,” he accused. 

“I’d tell them you were pale and I used to count your freckles.”

Thomas blushed. 

“And… then I’d tell them you were clever, the smartest person I’d ever met. With sharp eyes that missed nothing and that you seemed to closed off to most but were always there for me.” 

“I sound like quite a woman.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft… sometimes, once I was accepting things, I’d say things on purpose I thought they see through. Like how good you are at cricket, I’d say she could hit a cricket ball out of the field.” 

Thomas laughed. 

“If anyone put it together, it was always because they were like us.” 

“The smartest usually are…” Thomas said. 

“I suppose.”

Thomas sighed his eyes on Jimmy’s mouth. “I was thinking about how I used to want to touch you whenever you play the piano. How I just always wanted to touch you. Hand on your thigh, my mouth on your neck…”

“Yeah?” Jimmy breathed. 

“Yeah. I used to dream about kissing you in front of the piano. After you finished playing when you were done with the notes. We used to just sit there, this invisible barrier between us… but we would stay there, no matter what, waiting as long as we could get away with before going upstairs and saying good night. I just wanted to touch you, and it was torture that I couldn’t.”

“Are now.” Jimmy pointed out tightening their handhold.

Thomas nodded and licked his lips. “I am… and…” he pulled his hands free of Jimmy’s.

Jimmy huffed at the action but smirked as Thomas' hands went to his tie. He deftly undid it, years of practice and then he used the ends of it to yank Jimmy closer until their mouths were seconds from touching. “Always wanted th…” he whispered the sentence halted as their lips touched. 

Jimmy’s hand slid against Thomas’s cheeks, cradling his face, then slid into his hair. They kissed, grabbing onto the other, getting as close as they could straddled on a piano bench. They broke apart, and Jimmy’s hand went to Thomas’ tie… “I’ve always wanted to muss you up,” he said, taking his turn to yank Thomas into him, a hand sliding back into Thomas’ hair. 

Thomas sighed into the kiss and thought he was quite content to allow Jimmy Kent to mess him up.


	31. Chapter 31

Thomas stopped short, not quite knowing why. Downton Abbey was in sight, though he still had quite a bit of walking ahead of him. It was a clear day, barely a cloud in the sky. Downton Abbey looked grand and beautiful with the backdrop of blue. He frowned at it, for the first time in a long time. For a long time, the sight of it gave him peace, made him think of home — it was a comfort to him. It was what held him together for so long when he was a bits of torn pieces… 

It was the only home he had and it’d almost been ripped away from him forever when he needed it most. But he’d been allowed back in, somehow, once again into its warm embrace. One he was never quite sure he deserved. Somehow he’d always managed to stay with its safety though… after the war when his Lordship needed a valet when somehow O’Brien’s plots ended up foiled by his surprise savior Mr. Bates….

And then again, right after they asked him to leave, he was being pulled right back in. And he’d been bored, alone, and not at all whole and jumped right in. With both of his feet and a smile on his face while he tried his damnedest to be kinder... something that never came easily to him.

He learned a lot.

He’d felt at home.

It’d been a lie. 

A beautiful one, he thought, staring at the house. Thinking about the grand, dreamy and romantic way his Lordship would be waxing on and on and on about its legacy. About the Crawley’s before him and the ones to come after him. His life’s work. Thomas thought it was his life’s work too, the harder version of work, the toil of making sure none of the dirt found it’s way into the grander halls. Cigars lit and drinks poured before they were even requested. Measuring distances of spoons all the while Thomas was quite sure his Lordship couldn’t tell a cocktail spoon from a tea spoon — after all everything was always placed where it should go. His head was always ducked down, and everything he was was out of sight. 

They cared for him. Well, some of them, the ones left as the old world faded and the new world turned into being. Mrs. Hughes had a soft spot for him, he’d worn her down… like carpet, he thought and shook his head. Anna, Anna was grace and light, something he’d never understood. All seeing the best in everything and everyone but strong, somehow that gave her strength. He never had understood her, but she’d kept his secret, she advised him to try to stop being…

Low.

He sighed and wondered if she could understand that he only pretended to have figured that out. His moods never stopped swinging lower. He had to put on a pinched smile and do his duties. He’d been grateful though, to still be breathing. He had figured out at least he hadn’t really wanted to stop. But it’d cost him, he lost pieces of himself. All the torn edges of himself, the shattering of his heart, it'd made him a faded version of who he'd been before.

Though, his edges had been mended better in the past few months than a year as a Butler had managed. That had been Jimmy. His hands, his tongue, and his heart. The heart he gave to Thomas. Jimmy's strength and his new found courage. They'd taken hold of Thomas and sharpened him up again. Thomas saw in colors again, and they started with pink lips and deep blue eyes. He'd been a ghost. He’d only been play-acting being alive. The only time he felt seen before Jimmy's return was with Miss Baxter. Sometimes she looked at him with her kind eyes and asked for the truth of how he was feeling.

She saw his facade, but he couldn’t let her peek too far behind it. He had to lie, he always had to lie in Downton Abbey’s hallways. They couldn’t see him, not the real him. Not the one that been beaten and browbeaten into silence and not how he felt now.

More alive and less alone. Only the arms he belonged with were miles south , and he wasn’t sure when he was going to see him again. But just a mere fifteen days in a place where he could be…

Free.

He could kiss Jimmy under bright lights, he could gaze at him openly. There were no secrets, no eyes that would witness them together and gasp and scream for them to hide. There was no pretending, he was simply Thomas Barrow. Tall and proud. 

He used to do that. A long time ago he never hid, not really. No one guessed about him by accident. He let his eyes falter over the curve of a man’s ass, or the broadness of man's shoulders. It’d be second, he couldn’t do it longer than that — no, no men and women figured out his secret by luck. He used to let them. He used to think, it’s not wrong, make them deal with it. But somewhere after Philip and during his time with Jimmy…

He got bent backward. His heart broke and let himself break with it. And the lies, the lies got heavy, but he allowed them because it was how he kept his safety. He stared at Downton Abbey now… his safety blanket. He didn’t want to go back, he wanted to turn around and hop on a train and back to Jimmy. He wanted the smaller building of the Phoenix. He wanted the tinier rooms, the crowded hallways, with people always coming in and out — looking for their safety. 

A better safety. 

A freer safety.

A place where he could make out with Jimmy on a piano bench and not fear who might glance their way. 

Thomas sighed and started walking toward the Abbey. The place he called his home. Where what he supposed was his family was… Baxter, Mrs. Hughes, Anna… Daisy and Andy. He shook his head, he liked them, far more than he would ever admit — even to himself. But were they really his family? They’d never accept the whole him, the full him…

He’d been loud about it when Jimmy first waltzed back in. He saw them trying to understand but asking him to please keep it out of sight — something he promised without thought. Because it should be, shouldn’t it.

It is a lie he got used too, let himself get used to it. But he’d never believed it, ever, not once his life. He didn’t want to hide it. He felt like he was being forced to be apart from Jimmy for all the wrong reasons. But he didn’t know how to fix it. He was dreading walking inside, he was dreading putting on his Butler’s uniform and running the house. It wouldn’t be as fun as the bustle of the bar and food that The Phoenix peddled. There wasn’t lively music, there was nothing modern — not even with Mary Crawley Talbot’s presence. For she was old-fashioned in her ways despite being quite more independent than her mother before her. 

He’d found comfort in the lies. He needed the lies to stay afloat, to stay breathing. He knew that now. But Jimmy was why he was breathing now, truly alive for the first time in years. And Baxter’s quiet kindness wouldn’t be enough. Mrs. Hughes… patience, would wear thin. Daisy and Andy naive sweetness would grate. Anna and her kindness, her life with Mr. Bates…

The jealousy was back again, an oily awful thing in his chest. They got to be in love, they got to make moon eyes at the other across the table in the servant’s hall. Were allowed to raise their children in the kitchens and the halls. They were given a home, with love from the family. God, he loathed that, it was rising up in his heart again — why he used to snap and snarl at them. 

He wanted what they were easily gifted.

He wanted that with Jimmy.

They’d had that in the Phoenix. 

He didn’t want to go home. 

But here he was, standing a thirty-minute walk away from… It. Downton Abbey. And for the first time since before the war, he looked at it and thought it a prison. He laughed, remembering that, how he thought the war was his way to get free…

And yet, years later he had nearly died out of fear of losing it. He learned to lie in order to stay, to belong. He sighed, he was stuck, wasn’t he, he’d made it too important, and he couldn’t leave the Crawley’s. 

They’d saved him.

But he didn’t want to go home.

~~~

Mr. Molesley was the first person he saw when he stepped inside. He nearly laughed out loud at the bad luck of it. The man didn’t even work there anymore but could be seen following Miss Baxter around, like a sad-faced little puppy. He had found it oddly endearing, but now the jealousy was riled up in his chest. Mr. Molesley got to look a fool for the woman he loved, while he…

He’d had to leave Jimmy behind. 

He schooled his featured, pinched his cheeks from the inside by pulling them in as he sucked in a breathe. He had practice now at being nicer, kinder, more charming. It was never as natural as Jimmy’s charm, but he could manage it well enough, and he wasn’t repulsive to look at or listen too. He gave a polite hello and asked Mr. Molesley if he was just leaving — and thankfully that was the case. So he opened the door for him and watched the older man take off to the outside. Out of the house. 

Oh, how he wanted to follow. 

But he closed the door, shut out the blue sky and the road that was the way out of the estate. He sighed inwardly and slowly stood as tall as he could, as straight as he could. Rigid posture to help him hold up his strength. He pulled on the inside of his cheeks and realized a headache was forming at his temples. He sighed and remembered Jimmy’s request that he be called the moment Thomas returned to Downton…

He remembered how Jimmy paused and clearly said Downton, not when you get home but when he returned to Downton. It’d been pointed, they’d both heard it, they both knew it — they knew Jimmy was Thomas’ home. But he couldn’t stay home, could he?

Thomas walked swiftly to his office, a maid saw him just before he stepped inside of it. They nodded at each other, politely, he nearly called her by her name simply because he knew it — but the truth was he wasn’t in the mood to be that nice. He closed the door, with a thunk and walked to his phone. Lifted it up and placed the call. 

“Thomas?” 

He felt the smile, Jimmy’s voice elicited slam him. It exploded from his chest and up to his mouth. He grinned and let out a deep sigh. “That isn’t how you should be answering the phone of a business,” he scolded. 

“Fuck that,” Jimmy said crudely. “I knew it’d be you…. Eventually.”

“Jimmy?”

“Okay, so a few business calls came through, and despite the unprofessional pick up I probably handled the calls better than Peter, anyway.”

“Most likely.”

“In fact, I know I did… he misordered something, they were checking. Cass needs to fire him, I keep telling…”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Thomas said.

“Me either. Get a warm welcome back?”

“I came straight to the phone.”

“Oh.”

“I did see Mr. Molesley.”

“Well that doesn’t bode well,” Jimmy laughed. “I miss you.”

Thomas bit his lip and nodded. Suddenly afraid to speak, afraid of what his emotions might do to his voice. His eyes felt the sting of everything coiling around his stomach. “I don’t…” he whispered. 

“As soon as I can figure out how, I’m on the next train.”

“You can’t leave again, you’re Cass’ biggest draw.”

“Keep them waiting, keep them loving…”

“Fads come and go…”

“I’m not a fad, I’m timeless.”

“I think so,” Thomas whispered. 

“I miss you,” Jimmy said again. 

“I quite… I love you,” Thomas’ voice broke as he knew it would. 

“Soon, I promise.”

“Don’t… you can’t.”

“Maybe not, but I want to promise, because I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you soon.”

“Okay, lie then, because I quite agree.”

“Thought you would.”

“Mr. Barrow…” the door opened, and Mrs. Hughes stood in the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

Thomas swallowed a sigh and held up his hand for her to stay. He was back, it was time to get back work, to the job he’d worked his tail off for but never thought he'd be given, let alone deserved. He did deserve it though, he had learned that much, and he was good at it. He took pride in that, and he’d been gone a long time. Leaving the house to be run by others, something that was his responsibility. It didn’t matter if it felt like a burden for the first time since he was young. That it felt like a task for the first time since Downton Abbey become his world…

All for the sake of survival. 

“Thomas?” Jimmy’s voice was in his ear. 

His real reason for surviving. 

“I have to go, I don’t want too,” he admitted.

“I know, Thomas."

“Lie to me.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jimmy said, clear and loud and like he believed it to be true. 

“Soon, my love,” Thomas whispered.

Mrs. Hughes coughed.

His voice hadn’t pitched low enough.


	32. Chapter 32

Thomas sorted through the first mail of the night as he made his way toward the servant’s hall for breakfast. It was bills mostly, making him purse his lips until he came across his name written in a quick scrawl. His name and address always looked hurried, and he liked to think it was Jimmy’s impatience to mail the letters. He penmanship wasn’t nearly as messy on the pages inside. Thomas grin curled up a bit more as he found himself looking at a second letter, with the same mess on it’s front. Two letters. It told him he was missed. It told him he wasn’t alone in thinking the days were too long and time was too slow.

They were both waiting to see each other again. Neither one of them knew when the timing would happen. Jimmy sounded about ready to make it happen in his letters. It was the one with the freedom, after all. Thomas sighed, and his tie felt tight as he sat down the head of the table. He heard chairs scrap and looked up. Seeing everyone else pulling into their plates, he’d entirely forgotten where he was, in his mind anyway, his body was on automatic pilot. He went through the rest of the letters and tossed a few over to Mrs. Hughes. 

“It’s lovely to see you smiling,” Mrs. Hughes said to him, her eyes on his face. 

He nodded, not having anything to say, and pushed Jimmy’s letters into an inside pocket of his livery. Then he tucked into his breakfast. But after a moment he realized Mrs. Hughes gaze had not shifted. He looked up at her and waited. 

“You’ve been quite glum, Mr. Barrow,” she said, her voice low. 

He held in a sigh. He was. He felt the right to be. He felt hollow, it felt worse than he remembered. He managed to forget he wasn’t happy, he managed to forget he learned to take what he could he get — he knew he needn’t settle now. And he felt a bit of anger that ever gave into the idea he should’ve… But loneliness had taken its toll. There were times when he nearly pinched himself now, that his fantasies of Jimmy Kent loving him became true. They never went away — they couldn’t. But he only allowed himself to think of them on the darker days. And he fought to keep those at bay. He played nicer, and he enjoyed the _Friendships_ he made because of it… 

But it’d never been enough, but it’d never been easy to pretend it was because he hadn’t thought he could do better. It was sad that and it annoyed him. Because now he had better and yet at the same time he didn’t. 

“I’m quite fine, Mrs. Hughes,” he lied.

“I dare say, I know why you’ve been down, but it doesn’t do you any favors,” she said. 

He eyed her. 

“What I’m trying to say is chin up, Mr. Barrow. Wallowing doesn’t do anyone any favors.” 

Wallowing? His irritation spiked, and he was sure years ago something spiky would’ve left his mouth before he thought on it. Time had softened him, but this irritation burned, it was like the constant frustration of his earlier years. 

“Has my performance suffered?” He asked.

Mrs. Hughes looked at him perplexed. “No.”

“Then I don’t think my mood is the subject for conversation,” he sniped and picked up his tea. He focused on his plate. The conversation was over, and after a beat, Mrs. Hughes let out a breath and finally started to eat her breakfast. He let his shoulders relax after that. 

~~~  
A few days later, he was smoking when Anna appeared on the path heading toward Downton. Her hat and purse telling him she gown into town on an errand. He nodded his head at her, politely, friendly even. They were friendly now, her and him, and he supposed over the years their been moments. She was sweet, Anna and he found it was a personality trait that he never would quite understand. The only person he felt any need to be nice too was Jimmy. He understood being kind better now than he ever had and he was grateful to the kindness toward him… 

Anna stopped next to him with a look on her face. 

“Yes?” he asked after a moment.

She opened her mouth and closed it. She shook her head, and he thought she was going to just walk away. He wanted her to if she was hesitating as much as she was. But he saw her posture change, she stood taller, and he recognized the stubborn glint that flew in her eyes. He’d seen her give it to Mr. Bates enough over the years. “Mr. Barrow, are you well?”

“Quite well,” he said. 

“It’s just… You’ve seemed down.”

He sighed. Long ago he’d come to the realization he hadn’t much of a mask. His emotions as much as he held them back and fought to keep them inside could be glimpsed. He got away with it for most of his life because no one cared to see them, so they didn’t. The problem with being friendly was that know he was seen, he was watched, and he was quite sure they were all muttering about him. He’d walked into enough rooms with the buzz of conversation that abruptly stopped to be wrong about that. “I’m fine,” he said. 

“But you’re not,” she argued.

He sighed. Really, the fact he wished to be London was no one’s business. And he was quite sure they wanted it not to be their business. But here Anna was calling him on it. He stared at her and held back the impulse to blow smoke in her face. He would’ve once upon a time, and the temptation was strong, but he wouldn’t regress out of annoyance. “I am.”

Anna shook her head slightly, he wondered if she knew she was doing it. 

“I…” she stammered a bit, and her cheeks went pink. “I remember missing Mr. Bates, all too well. And it’s… understandable of course, but you mustn’t let your mood go so low.”

“My mood is fine.”

She gave him a look of disagreement and Thomas thought Mr. Bates would be clay underneath it, but he wasn’t Mr. Bates. “I’m quite well, Anna,” he said, meanly. 

“Very well,” Anna huffed and started to walk away. But then she turned back. “I’m just worried…”

Since she was far enough away, he just blew a cloud of smoke into the air. He saw her features flitter with annoyance at him, but soon she was inside. He closed his eyes as relief flooded him the conversation was over. 

~~~

“What are you doing up here?” Thomas asked the hall boy who just walked into the foyer. 

“You’ve a phone call.”

“Who is it?” he asked because he really had to get into the dining hall and start on the table setting. 

“A Mr. Kent,” the boy said, none the wiser. 

“Oh…” Thomas fought not to smile because that wouldn’t do at all. But it was a struggle. He should go down to his office, he knew this, but the main house phone was right there. He looked around, no one but him and the hall boy. He shooed the hall boy and picked up the phone. “Jimmy?”

“Bloody hell, I’m missed your voice,” Jimmy huffed. 

Thomas felt his cheeks pinken. “I hope that isn’t why you’ve called.”

“What if it was?”

“Jimmy,” he scolded.

“Seems a perfectly reasonable reason.”

“Well, it is not. This is the house phone.”

“Okay, Carson…”

“Don’t…” Thomas said not liking being likened to Carson, even if he conceded at times he thought he sounded far to like the older Butler.” 

“Cass asked me too.”

“What?”

“To call.”

“I put that together,” Thomas said. 

“Right. She’s looking for a new wine supplier. I think Peter annoyed the current one time too many, they’re dropping us. She wanted to know if you had names.”

“I do, but I’m not in my office…” Thomas sighed. 

“You’re in the foyer?” Jimmy asked, and Thomas could feel the smile. “You’re horrible, breaking such an unspoken rule. I think I love you more now.”

“Shut it,” Thomas hissed and knew he was blushing. “I’ll call back with the names and numbers for her, Jimmy….”

“Barrow.”

Thomas stiffened, he felt caught and he blushed further at the thought. His Lordship’s tone was confusion on the verge of unhappy. “His lordship is here, I have to go.” 

“Shit…” was the last thing he heard Jimmy say before hanging up the phone. 

Thomas turned to face his Lordship his mind whirring to find an excuse or a lie, but one look at the man and he knew he was caught. And he honestly had no other explanation to give, other than not wanting to waste the time going down the stairs when he could talk to Jimmy sooner by picking up the main phone. 

“Was that Jimmy Kent?” he asked him.

“Yes,” Thomas said.

His Lordship’s expression remained unhappy but his eyes weren’t hard but his eyes weren’t upset, his expression morphed a bit into something that Thomas guessed was resignation but it felt odd to him. 

“That’s quite… unacceptable,” he said finally. 

“It is, and it won’t happen again,” Thomas said quickly. 

His Lordship nodded, and Thomas sensed he was quite happy to leave it at that. To drop it. 

“I need start the table setting,” Thomas said and waited to be dismissed to do so. 

“Of course, of course,” his Lordship said. 

Thomas started to leave.

“Barrow?”

He bit back a sigh and faced his Lordship again.

“Do and you Mr. Kent call regularly?”

“No, sir. Not at all,” he said, though he wondered if it was a lie. Jimmy seemed to come up with reasons to call, it was rare though and they really only communicated with letters. 

“Good, good…” his Lordship said. 

Thomas nodded and started to try to leave.

“It’s…”

Thomas turned back toward him. 

“No, no, never mind, carry on Barrow.”

This time he was allowed to go, and he took a few calming breathes bent over the dining table before he started getting it ready for dinner service. 

~~~

He was about to open the letter from Jimmy that showed up in the evening mail when a soft knock was on his door. For a split second, he contemplated yelling go away but instead he opened his mouth to say it was open. But before he could the door opened and Miss Baxter walked in carrying two cups of tea. He sighed, feeling conflicted by her arrival, but he put the letter down on his desk carefully. Making sure the front of the envelope showed Jimmy’s impatient writing. 

Miss Baxter put the cups on the desk and settled herself in the chair in front of his desk. She smiled at him. A real one, the only friendly smile he was given in Downton that he fully believed was genuine. He smiled back, quite despite himself, he wanted to be annoyed she was making him wait to open the letter. 

“I heard his Lordship talking to Lady Crawley.”

“Shocking,” he replied dryly. 

“About the phone call.”

Thomas blushed and shook his head. “I thought it be a quick enough chat to get away with it.”

“I hope nothing is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Why did he call?”

“Oh, it was business.”

Baxter raised an eyebrow.

“It was,” Thomas defended. “For his friend Cassandra, she owns the nightclub he plays at.”

“A woman owns…” Miss Baxter blurted out her cheeks coloring. “That place?”

Thomas struggled not to laugh at her reaction. He found it quite obvious a woman would think of creating the sanctuary that The Phoenix was. “Yes.”

“I see,” she said. 

He sighed and took a sip of his tea, smiling a bit, Baxter was the only one who got his tea right. Curiosity finally won out. “Is he angry?”

“I wouldn’t say angry.”

“But he was unhappy?”

“Yes.”

Thomas frowned and started fiddling with the letter, picking it up and dropping it again. 

“Thomas…” Miss Baxter’s tone was kind. 

“What?”

“I know you miss him and that life is different for you now.”

Thomas met her eyes and focused on how genuine her kindness was and ignored the set of her jaw that told him she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. 

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“You can let it affect your work.”

“What did his Lordship say?” he asked. 

“This isn’t just about his Lordship.”

Thomas sighed. 

“You can’t let… You can’t see him all the time, Thomas. Being constantly low because of it is…”

Thomas glared.

“I’m sorry, Thomas but…”

“And his Lordship?” he asked, his tone hard. 

She frowned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Still did it though. And his Lordship?”

“Is worried about scandal,” she admitted. “But, her Ladyship told him not to be overreactive. He won’t say anything.”

“Isn’t that peachy,” Thomas snarked. 

“Thomas.”

“Go.”

“Thomas, I mean this kindly…

“I know. So just go.” 

She nodded and took the teacups with her. 

Thomas sighed and looked at Jimmy’s letter. Suddenly not feeling at all in the mood for it. He went to the pile of other letters he'd thrown on his desk for later. He went through them, making piles, the bill pile the highest and until he frowned at the last one in his hand. The Phoenix was the return address, but the writing wasn’t Jimmy’s. He didn’t recognize it at all but he had a guess who it belonged to, and he opened it quickly. Curious about what Cassandra could possibly be writing to him. 

He read it. 

His hands shook. 

He read it again. 

And again.

He stared at it. 

He was shaking and felt like he couldn’t deal with what she was saying at all. He took a breath. Push it aside, pushed everything else aside, because it was all connected, wasn’t it. He wanted not to think, he wanted to breathe easy, he felt he hadn’t in days. No the only time he did was when he was reading Jimmy’s letters… He wrote like he was talking to Thomas, face to face, in their bed. So, he opened his letter, finally, leaned back in his seat and just fell into the simplicity of his latest love letter.


	33. Chapter 33

The clock was wound. He’d felt the tension in the wires, and he’d felt the click of the glass as he closed the cover over the face. He’d been careful to not smudge it, he’d been exacting and precise, as always. And now he stood, staring at the grand clock. He felt the want of it roll through him, the fantasy it was his clock, that he owned such a well-crafted and beautiful thing. Envy roiled in his stomach and had his back teeth grinding. It never would be, never could be, he wasn’t born to such things. It felt wrong to him like he been placed into the wrong life, it was always something he felt. He deserved the wealth of the Crawley’s. He never doubted it, yet he never found a way to get it. All his plots and schemes getting him nowhere. He learned a few lessons, always the hard way, but he gained perspective. Finally. But the yearning for more than he’d been given would never go away. 

But he could touch this clock. He could wind it. It was him who gave it all its care. He kept it in shape, he kept it ticking to perfect time. Every day for a few moments of his day the clock was his and his alone. He stared at and tried to tell himself it was just a thing. It wasn’t anything but wood and gears. It wouldn’t miss him if he left it behind. It wasn’t something he should feel…

Trapped by. 

He frowned and stared at it. Watched as the minute hand ticked ahead another minute. It ton that three times now. He was wasting time, but he found that he was stuck staring it. Thomas cleared his throat, emotion was building up in his chest. He had to get a grip, but the clock was holding him into one of its own. Both times he’d left Downton, thinking it might be forever, he’d come and stood before this clock. Studying it, memorizing it, listening to its distinctive tick — all clocks had their own sound after all. 

He’d said goodbye to it. 

He stuck his hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the piece of paper inside and looked at the letter that Cassandra had sent him. He’d yet to answer her, he wasn’t sure what to say…

And wasn’t that surprising, he was shocked at himself, and he wasn’t at all sure what to think or do with it. He looked at the clock again and remembered standing, where he is now, in front of it before he left Downton for what his shattered heart thought to be forever. His heart hurt that day, his bones ached with it, and he was numb as well, shocked he was alive. Shocked he found a position, however dreary it felt to him at the time. He’d been grateful for the job but his heart never been in it. Downton was his home, he remembered standing before this clock — his borrowed clock — and thinking this was his home. It wasn’t perfect, he had few friends — one friend in Baxter — he was alone in it. But at least he was in it and surrounded by walls he knew and a few people he liked and few he simply tolerated. He hadn’t wanted to leave, it’d taken a strength he hadn’t wanted to tap into to leave the building. 

Things were different now, Thomas thought, and he looked down at the letter. His eyes finding the sentence that knocked him for a loop and made him shake the night before. 

_As you know, Peter is quite useless, and he’s an oaf. I want to wash my hands him, he’s causing me more hassle and lost money than I can put up with. You, on the other hand, are a professional, clever and our Jimmy loves you. Come and run the Phoenix Thomas, please, consider being my manager. As you know you already have a room here._

He heard the minute hand tick, then he heard a voice. A maid was speaking to him, and he shook his head at her and made her repeat herself, shoved the letter into his pocket and gave the clock one last appraising look… 

_Was it one of the last looks he’d ever give it?_

~~~

“Mr. Barrow, Mr. Barrow,” George Crawley’s tone reminded Thomas of Lady Mary, and he smirked a bit to himself before turning around and gracing the boy — and Miss Sybbie as it turned out with a genuine smile. 

“Yes?” he asked them. 

“Play hide and seek with us?” Miss Sybbie asked though it sounded somewhat demanding. 

He smiled wider and glanced at his pocket watch, he didn’t honestly have the time for this but… he looked at them both, looking up at him, two sets of pleading blue eyes. Thomas felt something tug at him, something that always tugged at him when he was around the children. He hadn’t known it until Sybbie was born. The first time he saw her tiny face and saw her big eyes — so much like her mother. He’d fallen. It’d happened again when George was born, he hadn’t thought it would — after all, he’d cared for Lady Sybil in a way he never would for Lady Mary. But he loved these children, he wanted to make them smile, he wanted them to feel like the belonged… 

He felt a lump in his throat. Memories of George pleading with him not leave and Sybbie wrapped around his leg, a little weight, that they’d had to force to let go of him. Leaving them had torn his heart into even more pieces, and it’d been ragged as it was and now…

The letter felt heavy in his pocket. But he pushed that thought aside and looked at his watch again. “One quick game, only, but yes we can.”

“I seek, I seek!” Sybbie yelled. 

Thomas laughed and agreed.   
~~~

With the time he took to play with the children and his own maudlin staring at his clock, Thomas was in a hurry for the rest of his day. A step or two behind, rushing and shouting at the staff — perhaps a bit too much but none of them seemed surprised by his off mood. Given the grief he’d been given regarding his glum attitude since returning from London maybe they thought him being a bit shouty was an upgrade.

He sat down finally, far too late in the night, with a cup of tea and the newspaper. The servant’s hall was quiet and the moment he sat down he wished hadn’t… Because his mind went to London, the very thing he'd been trying avoid all day, but he knew it was inevitable. His mind was never far from Jimmy and their time together had been…

Everything. 

His chest was swelling with emotion again, and his stomach flipped on him as he heard Jimmy’s voice in his mind. He was at the piano, voice deep, perfect pitch and endlessly charming. He was singing a love song, a song about pining away for the person you loved, one Jimmy had written himself and whispered into Thomas' neck as they made love was about him. 

He flushed crimson, feeling quite hot and knowing it wasn’t his tea. But his eyes had slipped closed, and the remained so… Jimmy’s voice singing lyrics in his head along with the feel of Jimmy’s lips against his skin. He yearned for it, his bed was too large, the mattress bumpy and it was cold. It was so cold now, after having his arms wrapped around the heat of Jimmy’s body. 

Being alone in a bed wasn’t something wanted now that he knew what the opposite felt like. He frowned, shook his head and made himself open his eyes and open his paper. The Downton Courier, however, seemed quite dull and drab after reading the London Times. He frowned as he read an article about the local politics and wondered if he even cared? 

“You’ve been quiet today,” Miss Baxter voice filled the air.

He looked up as she sat down in chair closest to him, hand-sewing in her hands and a smile on her face. “Late isn’t it?”

“You aren’t the only one running late today,” she said. 

He made a face, quite sure his transgressions for the day couldn’t have affected Miss Baxter’s day with Lady Grantham. “And why is that?” he asked her. 

“Never you mind, you’ve had your head in the clouds all day,” she pressed.

“Not clouds,” Thomas countered.

“Maybe not clouds,” Miss Baxter said. 

Thomas sipped his tea and went back to his paper. They fell into a silence, it wasn’t awkward because he knew she wouldn’t expect him to fill it. She knew he hadn’t the patience for small talk and really he just wanted to focus on the paper and not think about anything else. Not that it was working, he kept having to reread paragraphs. Jimmy’s voice in his head, Cassandra’s offer and his mixed feelings about Downton. 

Baxter clearing her throat caused a flood of relief, which he guessed would be short-lived but it was there all the same. He looked at her and saw her watching him with that look in her brown eyes. Kindness, gentleness, sincerity. 

“I feel I owe you an apology,” she said. 

“What?” he stared at her confused.

“You miss him.” 

Thomas remained confused, the statement was true, of course, it was. But why was she saying it? 

“We’ve…” she cleared her throat. “I will only speak for myself, but I don’t like seeing you down, Thomas. But I realize I can’t expect you not to miss him when you apart and I shouldn’t have implied you shouldn’t allow yourself to feel it so deeply.” 

She cared, and maybe the rest of them cared too, but he only believed it from Phylis Baxter. She looked at him like he mattered like he was full person, she never had that look in her eyes that showed she was aware that he was _like that,_ or that she didn’t quite trust the kind words he said. Anna and Mrs. Hughes still blinked in surprised when he was what apparently too nice to them. And Andy, Andy did his best, but Thomas knew he was still uncomfortable around him, despite knowing Thomas held no interest in him whatsoever. 

“I just wished to let you know that,” Miss Baxter said after a beat, thinking he wasn’t going to answer to her. And she understood that too, would understand that also and he felt his chest crack again. Because if he were to leave Downton, he would miss her. It hit him hard at that moment as she gave him her usual soft and meek smile. 

“I do. Miss him,” Thomas said. “I’d forgotten how painful it was to miss him.”

“It’s better now though, knowing you will see him again?”

“No, it’s worse than when I thought he was lost to me,” he said. 

“Why?”

“I know what I’m missing,” Thomas said softly. 

Baxter blushed and looked down at her sewing. 

“I’ll try not to take it out on the staff so much,” he conceded. 

“It’s all we can ask for.”

~~~

The next morning he was in front of the clock again. His heart beating fast, causing him to have issues with winding it. He could hear himself in his ears and he needed to be listening and feeling to the clock. But he was smelling the scent of the wood and all too aware of the unanswered letter in his pocket.

He’d left Downton twice in his lifetime. Once with ease and a chip on his shoulder. Once broken with half of himself still inside of its walls. His heart kept pounding. His mind thinking about the children, Baxter, and this clock — that he coveted. He closed his eyes and focused on calming his heartbeat, he needn’t make a decision yet. 

He focused on the clock and wound it, precisely and efficiently once he calmed his nerves some. He stepped back and placed the covering back in place. He stared at it and thought he knew just the spot to put in Jimmy’s room… the thought sent him reeling again. 

The doubts he felt were surprising to him. But they were real. He would miss the children, he would miss Baxter. He might miss Anna and Mrs. Hughes. He would miss the rooms of the house, their grandness, their beauty and the wealth. But it wasn’t his, he reminded himself. Jimmy was in his mind, his heart, his breath, he missed him in a way that he couldn’t explain the depth of… and it was worse than how he’d missed him in the past. He thought it was done, their time over, and all they’d be were friends.

Now, now he knew Jimmy’s taste. 

A throat cleared behind him and it was a sound that him automatically standing at attention, ready for a lecture, prepared for an insult. He turned with his back straight and shoulders high. 

Mr. Carson stood before him, hand on the handle of a plain black cane. He was dressed impeccably, of course, standing at his full and considerable height. He wasn’t taller than Thomas but he was , and he was Carson. How Thomas both loathed him and wanted his approval. Always wanted his bloody approvable. Made him hate him all the more. 

“What are you doing daydreaming in the middle of the day, I left you a house to run.”

He ground his back teeth together and forced a smile. “What brings you here, Mr. Carson?”

“Scandal, Thomas. Scandal… Let’s talk in private.”

Thomas swallowed his sigh of aggravation. “Very well.” 

The two of them made their way, slowly, down the stairs.


	34. Chapter 34

It took them a while to make it down the stairs. Both of them cautious of Mr. Carson’s condition. Thomas because he didn’t want the wrath of Mrs. Hughes, he quite enjoyed her looking at him with soft eyes and a kind smile. His whole live at Downton he wanted both their approval, and he’d hated it, hates that part of him that sought that, and he railed against it. He could live without Mr. Carson’s, not that he a choice there when it came to it. But he knew now what it was to have Elsie Hughes Carson’s approval, and he wanted to keep it. Despite himself, he thought as he carefully made his way down the staircase, keeping an eye on Carson. He seemed quite sturdy, but his condition seemed unpredictable to Thomas, the little he knew about it. The cane seemed to be doing its job, and Carson had his other hand on the railing — also probably driven by a need not to upset his wife. 

Thomas knew why Carson was here, in fact, he’d been waiting for him to arrive with a scowl on his face. He expected it to happen from the moment his Lordship found him on the phone with Jimmy. It was inevitable really, the more his Lordship saw and heard about him, and Jimmy, the more likely Carson would be called in to do something. It was the way of things, Thomas supposed, not that he fully understood why it was the way of things. Yet, a part of him did understand, did know precisely why Carson was here, and he’d already uttered the word. 

Scandal. 

Thomas sighed. It was why for a time, he did all he could dig up dirt and find out the secrets of the people around him. If he knew things, if he had aces up his sleeve, he could threaten to cause a scandal. Cause rumors and cause trouble. His schemes never led anywhere, and in a way, a few of them hurt him more than they did the people he wished ill on. Though, he will forever be grateful Bates of all people talked him into using what he had on O’Brien against her. 

It’d kept him home. 

Home. That tripped him up, and he paused for a moment. Hands on the door to his office, his office, that he decorated the way he wished, put his own stamp on it. Anyone who walked in knew it was his, Thomas Barrow and not anyone else. It was his office, the one he earned, from hall boy to Butler. He did that. No one could take it away from him, and he did here… Downton Abbey. 

_Home?_

But yes, scandal, he remembered, hearing Carson tut behind him. He pushed open the doors and walked to his desk. He waved his hands at the chairs that were in front of it and walked around and sat down. He couldn’t help but enjoy the reverse in position. He couldn’t help appreciate it as Carson slowly lowered himself down into a seat in front of Thomas. Yes, he sat behind the desk now, him and he felt the edges of his mouth twitch upward and decided to let the smirk happen. 

“I don’t know why you are smiling,” Carson sniped, but he cut himself off.

Thomas fought against the frustrated sigh that wanted to burst out of him. They needed to get this over with, but Thomas realized he wasn’t quite sure what his response was going to be. He knew what was coming, but he felt wholly unprepared for it suddenly. His heart sped up. He'd known this was coming for days, but now that was here he realized he never thought about what his response to it would be… 

_As you know you already have a room here._ His hand flew to his pocket, and he touched the letter. Then he decided that yes, yes he wanted to get this conversation over with. 

“What brings you here, Mr. Carson?” he asked keeping up the pretense of not knowing.

“How is the house doing?” Mr. Carson asked. 

Thomas blinked. “What?”

“How is the house doing?” Mr. Carson asked. 

Once a month they had a meeting, where Thomas told him how the house was doing, reports, invoices, keeping Carson up to date on the wines in the basement and other minutiae that went into running a great house. It was to keep Carson in the know, to let him still have a hand in running things and guiding Thomas. It was boring and annoying to Thomas, but he was willing to allow Carson to keep his foot in, even though he didn’t need the man’s guidance. And they both knew it, yet they played the pantomime. 

“Does your hearing need to be checked?”

Thomas shook his head. “No.”

“Then answer the question.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Mr. Carson,” Thomas sniped. “And we both know that is not why you are here.” 

“Impertinent.” 

“Am I?” Thomas balked. “This isn’t our monthly meeting, that isn’t until two weeks from now, where I come to you. The house is being run, it’s perfectly fine. It always is. So, why don’t we get to why you are here.” 

Carson sighed. 

Thomas sat back in his chair and decided to wait him out. He made Carson uncomfortable. Carson hated what Thomas was and saw as an affront to nature. Thomas disagreed. Once, for a brief period of time, he tried to pretend he agreed with Mr. Carson, thought maybe if his plan to rid himself the so-called natural urges worked he might finally gain the man’s approval. What a fool he’d been? That depression that dark time…. 

He'd never been happier he found his way out of that abyss. His eyes landed on the letter from Jimmy that was on his desk. Laying there open, Jimmy’s neater script on them. Part love letter and part just a quick note on his day, as if they were back in the servant’s hall playing cards after a long day of working. He nearly reached for it, to read it again, he’d lost count of how man times he scanned the two pages. But he didn’t, remembering that Carson was here…

For a conversation, neither of them wanted to have. 

“It has come to my attention that you…that you and James Kent have been in contact again?”

“Yes,” Thomas said. 

“His Lordship,” Carson coughed. 

“Would like some water?”

“No, I’m fine,” Mr. Carson argued. 

“I could get you some.”

“No, let’s… Get this over with as you so bluntly put.”

Thomas remained quiet, he wasn’t going to make this easy on him. 

“His Lordship seemed under the impression that you were more than friends with James?”

“Is he?” Thomas nearly laughed. Of course that his Lordship was under the impression. Robert Crawley wasn’t the sharpest of men but he wasn’t blind, and he always had both his eyes wide open about Thomas. And had been kind about it at times, more generous than Carson and many others in Thomas life. Maybe it was one of the reasons he could never quite shake Downton Abbey. 

“My wife, Mrs. Hughes…”

“I know who she is,” Thomas couldn’t stop the crack. 

“Very well, she confirmed his suspicions as true?”

“Are you asking me?” Thomas asked. Mrs. Hughes knew the truth. He nearly blushed as he remembered his rash act of kissing Jimmy in front of his staff. He’d been fueled by fear and want and half-crazed because he was seeing Jimmy again. Half sure he was going insane because Jimmy was saying all the things he wanted to hear. Those were the best and worst days of his life, the days Jimmy crashed back into his world. 

“I am. James Kent was a vain, self-centered cad and I find it quite…”

“Hard to believe he’s been twisted into something foul?” Thomas sniped. 

Carson had the grace to look guilty, and it made Thomas tense. Carson was as people always told him a kind man, a good man… Thomas just couldn’t quite believe it when the kindness Carson gave him was half what he gave to the rest of the world. Maybe it was the man’s one flaw, Thomas wasn’t sure… Carson had allowed him to stay more than once. Carson hadn’t objected to Thomas becoming Butler, and at times it almost seemed he was happy for it. Even maybe it went only as far as he had trained Thomas himself. 

“Thomas…” Carson slowly sounded out his name. “Mrs. Hughes has reminded me that you have been running this house smoothly for over a year now…. A fact of which I agree.”

“You do?” he flew out his mouth unbidden.

Carson sat up straighter in the chair and held Thomas gaze. “I do. I expected as much. You were always efficient and adept at foreseeing anything the family may ask for.”

Thomas’ throat felt dry, and something ached in his chest. It was approval. Of a sort, wasn’t it? He hated that it mattered, he hated that he cared. But he’d been seeking it for decades now if he was honest. Carson hated what he was, but he wasn’t as hard or cruel as Thomas’ father. Thomas would’ve been a good clockmaker, a great one maybe, better than his father even… 

But he was what he was, he loved men, and so he was disowned. Carson took him in, despite seeing it, despite hating it… He still gave Thomas the bloody chance, and he had made something of it — false starts and wrong turns aside. He was the Butler. 

“You’re a good Butler, Thomas…” Carson spoke the words.

Thomas closed his eyes and decided to savor it until the inevitable…

“But.” 

His eyes flew open and he waited. 

“I’ve been informed by Mrs. Hughes that you during the break you took in London you were staying with Mr. Kent?”

He nodded.

Disapproval reappeared on Carson’s face, and Thomas hated that it hurt. It had been nice when it lasted, the few moments of it, he thought. He remained silent again because he wouldn’t make this easier on Carson. Not at all. 

“Thomas…” Carson breathed out a long frustrated sound. “You cannot do that again.”

He bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t argue. 

“You do understand that, I know you understand that… A Butler cannot bring scandal to his house.”

“No, no, of course not… Let’s not have a scandal.” 

“If you continue to… to… to…” Carson stammered. 

“I will continue to see Jimmy.”

Carson paled. “You will not.”

“You are no longer the Butler.”

“And if you keep this up neither will you!” Carson shouted. “This cannot stand, Thomas. You cannot give into what nature has…”

“Twisted me into?” Thomas laughed. 

Carson looked ready to leap to his feet, but somehow he kept himself contained to the chair. “I thought you were happy here.”

“I am happy here,” Thomas said quickly, too quickly, he thought as his fingers touched the letter in his pocket and his eyes fell on the letter on his desk. 

“Then you must end this before someone finds it out and causes the Crawley’s scandal.”

“No…” Thomas shook his head, and his other hand reached out and touched Jimmy’s letter. 

“No?” Carson was appalled. 

He pulled the letter closer, so he could read the words. The part where Jimmy was complaining about Peter was in view, the latest faux pas the oaf made that cost Cassandra money and how Jimmy wanted to just toss him out into the street. It told Thomas he hadn’t a clue what Cassandra was offering him and he was thankful for that… 

Jimmy would expect him to just walk away. No questions, no doubts and it wasn’t an odd thing to expect. It was just a bit more complicated for Thomas, but his answer to Cassandra’s question was inevitable, he knew it before he finished reading her letter. He’d known it for the past two days. It’s been beating in his chest, and he’d felt impatient for it.

It’s just that Downton is in his blood. He looked at Carson and knew the same was true of him. Maybe more so than Thomas, but then Downton had never tried to evict Mr. Carson. He loved this house, and he hated it. Downton Abbey was his home, or rather his first home. The first place he called his own, the first place he managed to feel he belonged, even if most of the people within it wanted nothing to with him. 

He had friends now though, a family of sorts he supposed… And it was going to hard to leave. He was sad about it, he knew it, and he dreaded telling the children. But he was going to enjoy what he was about to say. 

“If you were asked to choose this house or Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, what would you do?”

“That is hardly the same, Thomas,” Mr. Carson scoffed.

“It’s exactly the same.”

“His Lordship does not wish to fire you, Thomas, you need to…”

“I’ve been offered a job in London.”

“What?”

“I’m taking it. I wish to be with Jimmy.”

“What?”

“I will, of course, stay here until we find a replacement and I will, of course, expect you to have a hand in the choosing of my replacement. Downton Abbey is still your house to protect, Mr. Carson.” 

Carson stared at him. 

Thomas started to smile. “Mr. Carson, you see, while I am quite happy here it can no longer be my home.” 

Carson’s expression slowly softened from his shock and likely revulsion into something softer. Something accepting, though Thomas knew it wasn’t of him. No, it was of him leaving, something Carson always readily accepted. “Honestly, Thomas, I do think that will be for the best.”

“I agree. I haven’t told anyone else yet of course. I would like to tell Mrs. Hughes myself?” 

Carson nodded. “Yes, yes… she’ll…” he met Thomas' eyes. “She will miss you.” 

Thomas felt that and it was a good ache he decided. “I’ll miss her as well, Mr. Carson.” 

“I’ll take my leave.”

Thomas hurried up and helped him up out of the chair and handed him his cane. The two men made eye contact one last time and give half smiles to the other. Thomas wondered if Carson’s feelings for him were as complicated as his own toward him as Carson finally turned away and left the room. Thomas closed the door behind him and turned back to his desk. 

Impatience rushed through him, and he hurried back to it. Found his paper and a pen and quickly scrawled a letter to Cassandra. Accepting the offer, asking her to keep it as a surprise for Jimmy — though he was quite sure it was her plan. He knew it would be weeks yet before he could make his way back to London but now that he’d spoken the truth, now that it was made and he wasn’t holding onto his past, he felt in quite a rush to make it real. 

He was going to go home. 

To Jimmy.


	35. Chapter 35

_I find my song lyrics are becoming maudlin again and the guys are grousing at me for choosing to play all the sad songs during our sets. They’re ribbing me constantly for pining away and telling me not take my foul moods out on them and others around me._

_Missing you is different now, you’ve mentioned it yourself…. I thought the ache was strong inside of me while we're apart, neither one of us ever knowing if we’d be back together again. That ache was painful, and I wrote it out in my songs, and in the letters to you, I never dared to write…_

_What a coward I was, wasn’t I?_

_But I’m not now, not anymore, I will not run from the intensity of this, and I can’t imagine not telling you, I have so much to make up for don’t I — I didn’t tell you things for so long, nor myself, I kept things hidden and in the end it just hurt us both._

_I miss you. I want you here and I know it’s greedy Thomas, I know it is selfish, but I hate Downton for having you, for keeping you from me, for making you wait on them hand and foot while you should be here and we could be spoiled in the safe walls of The Phoenix. Spoiled rotten by getting to touch and kiss with no fear of our safety, or judgmental eyes. No prudes in sight…._

_Well except that fool Peter — but I will not spend time this letter complaining about him, though he seems to be getting on Cassandra’s last nerve, she’s threatening his job more and more often…._

_I wish… I wish you were here, you could take over his duties, it would be easy for you and take up so much less of your time than the householding running of Downton Abbey._

_It’s selfish, I made noises to Cassandra… I know, I know Downton is important to you, I heard you when told me how grateful you were you were allowed to return, I see the pride in your eyes when you speak of being the Butler and you deserve it, you’re meant for higher status, you should be the Lord really…. Both of us. We were born in the wrong lives sometimes, I think — though I wouldn’t give up my music for anything. Except maybe you…_

_I must end this now, the time has slipped away again as I wrote._

_I’m in a right mood missing you, no one wants to be around me, and all I can think is you would, you would stick around me no matter how foul I was behaving. You soft git… But it makes me smile._

_Love, more than you know,_

_Your Jimmy._

Jimmy grabbed his hat, put it on and started rushing down the stairs, doing up his tie. He needed to get to the letter out before the first batch of mail was sent up north. Only Cassandra was standing at the bottom of the steps, hands on her hips and shaking her head. 

“What,” he said not that he was stopping to listen.

She grabbed his wrist and plucked the letter out of it. “I will mail it,” she announced. “I need you to stay here and take care of the wine and spirits order.”

“What, why, where is the imbecile?”

“I sent him on other errands for the day, ones I don’t think he’ll mess up…. You will get everything set up for tonight correctly.”

“I’m your musician, Cass,” Jimmy whined exasperated.

“With managerial skills…” 

“Barely….”

She laughed. “You’re better than you think, I think it’s because you’ve always hung on every word that comes out of your man’s pretty mouth.”

He glared at her.

Her laugh tinkled throughout the hall, and she patted him on the shoulder, before grabbing a pile of other letters off a nearby table and putting his letter to Thomas on the top. 

Jimmy let out an annoyed huff, took off his hat and tossed on the empty table and realized he had to go see what was expected to arrive in the order for the day. He made his way in behind the bar, toward the office and had to grin at all the relieved sighs from the waitstaff when they saw him and not Peter. 

~~~

“Is that all?” Robert Crawley asked as he started to stand up to retire upstairs for the night. 

“No, actually, the first of the interviews for my replacement will be tomorrow, your Lordship.” 

He froze mid-turn and made to stand fully in front of Thomas. “I see, well, that was quite quick…”

“I felt the more swiftly, the better for all of us,” he said.

Robert appraised him and then looked away, an expression Thomas recognized as an odd mixture of guilt, kindness and the acceptance of a status quo that Thomas would never accept Thomas. He nodded but held Thomas’ gaze for a moment. “Have you told the children?”

Thomas' eyes widened for a moment before he slipped quickly back into the more neutral expression befitting a servant. “Not, yet, your Lordship…” he trailed off unsure if he should express an opinion on why. 

“I see… I expect them to miss you quite a bit, I haven’t been blind to the way they brighten up when you enter the room over of the years. It reminds me of Mary’s closeness with Carson.”

“I will miss them,” he admitted with reluctance.

“Yes, yes….” The Earl sighed. “If things were different, Barrow…”

“Your Lordship, I’m quite happy things aren’t different,” he snapped, he hadn’t meant too, but he couldn’t stand the thought of things being different. If they were different, he’d still have a home here, but he wouldn’t be alive — not really. 

And he meant to live. 

The Earl’s eyes widened, but then he nodded and shook his head. A flash of confusion but maybe a hint of understanding behind his eyes. “You’ve been a part of this household for a long time, Barrow… I will admit it feels the end of an era.” 

Thomas nodded. 

The door the library opened. Mr. Bates stepped over its threshold and blinked seeing Thomas. But quickly his eyes landed on this Lordship. “Are you going up?”

“Yes, Bates, yes…” he said and made his way past his valet. 

Mr. Bates remained just inside the doorway. 

Thomas picked up a tray and started to pile the glasses the family had left in their wake for the night. He felt Bates’ eyes tracking him as he made his way around the chairs and tables. “What is it, Mr. Bates?” he asked finally the quiet and the weight of the man’s gaze getting under his skin. Easily. Always easily. 

“My wife is sad you are leaving.”

Thomas froze at that. 

Mr. Bates let out a chuckle. “It astonishes me as well.”

“I wouldn’t claim I am astonished, a bit puzzled perhaps…” Thomas said and looked at the man. He and Anna were close, they always been, in a way, but it was up and down and down and up again — all his fault, of course, lashing out and being unkind. Allowing his jealousy and his pain to control him. “But I shall miss her as well, Mr. Bates.”

“As you should,” Mr. Bates said, smiling the smile of a man in love with his wife. The man who was proud of his wife. That smile used to make him want to punch Bates in his fat smug face. He used to fantasize about it, and he knew the only reason he never attempted such folly was he’d have gotten punched back. He wasn’t afraid of Bates, far from it, his brutish attempts to scare him had never worked. It wasn’t that, he just hadn’t quite felt a bloody nose was worth the trouble when it was more fun to attack with his tongue and his wit. 

He didn’t feel that hatred any longer, or that envy. He had Jimmy, who was worth ten Annas as far as he was concerned. More beautiful and far more multi-faceted. Thomas nodded, though, in agreement because he knew Anna for what she was — a truly genuine person. Those were far and few between he thought, and something to be treasured. Mr. Bates wasn’t wrong in not taking his wife for granted. 

“I’m sure, you, however, are finally happy to see the back of me?”

Mr. Bates eyed him, expression unreadable but then he shook his head. “This may finally be the time you will finally leave my life, Mr. Barrow and I won’t go as far to say I’ll miss you. But as you have a chance at happiness, and have over the past years been exemplary Butler for this house, I hold dear… I will wish you well, something that I wasn’t about to do in the past.” 

It meant more than Thomas wanted it too, which was off-putting and it made him straighten his already straight posture and smirk at Mr. Bates. He couldn’t allow it to show. He just couldn’t. “Very well, are we done? His Lordship is waiting, Mr. Bates.” 

“We’re done,” Mr. Bates said and turned on his heel. 

Thomas stared at the spot where he had stood for a moment, and the smirk fell into a smile for a brief moment. His life had changed, dramatically in the last few years, more than once. His suicide and crawling back up from it. Jimmy, Jimmy crashing back into his life, bringing back color and the ability to breathe. He wondered what else London might bring him, what being able to be in Jimmy’s bed, Jimmy’s arm’s and Jimmy’s lively life might bring him. 

The Phoenix would be a new way of living for him. He bloody looked forward to it. 

~~~

Thomas leaned back in his chair and looked at that two square envelopes on his desk. Both of them with the same return addresses. He picked up the one with Jimmy’s scrawl, impatience to open it coursing through him. He’d thought about it all day, but his upcoming departure had him more than a little busy. There a million things to do for him to ready the house for a new Butler. Things he needed to consider and do, before interviewed anyone. He sighed and realized he would be up most of the night. 

He wanted to tear right into Jimmy’s letter. Get his tiny little taste of him, that was never enough. It didn’t matter that a letter or more poured in daily from London. It never mattered, there as no such thing as enough Jimmy Kent — and mere words on a page were a laughable amount. It couldn’t touch what Thomas was missing… Despite Jimmy’s way with words, despite how opening romantic they were. He grinned and thought back to a sadder Thomas of old, and wished he could tell him that someday Jimmy Kent would write him the most lovely of love letters. With mundane facts and daily experiences, interspersed with words and phrases that spoke of intense longing, heartache, and passion. 

He wanted to open it, but instead, he put it down on the desk and opened the other letter. It was from Cassandra, he'd written her a few days ago taking her up on her offer, and asking her to keep Jimmy out of the loop. He wanted to surprise him, he wanted to see his face when Thomas showed up out of the blew, his suitcases with him. He wanted to see the realization dawn on Jimmy and watch the way his mouth would curl upward. 

_You took time answering, Mr. Barrow…. Tsk tsk tsk. Yet, I am unsurprised by your answer. You may arrive anytime, and the job is yours to take, I would like to know a bit beforehand — to get rid of Peter. If there is a space between your arrival and his end, I have ways of keeping Jimmy from suspecting a thing. As a matter, in fact, he might be quite ornery thinking he’ll be stuck with the job himself until I find someone more suited. He’s been making noises you know about you…. But he’s holding back on outright asking me. Fear I suppose, of your answer being no. Silly boy. As if you’d say no to a life with him._

_I allow you have loose ends to tie up. Write me when things can be called definite._

_Cassandra._

__


	36. Chapter 36

Jimmy rubbed his hands over his face as he walked down the stairs. He’d slept to early afternoon, after being up for more the half the night. It was a good thing he was no longer in service. Thomas would be on him for being lazy, but what reason did he have to wake early, his world was about the night and not the day — and he was his own boss, more or less, yes Cassandra was his benefactor but he was the musician, and she left everything up to him and his bandmates.

He was tired, he wasn’t sleeping well… The longer he went without Thomas next to him the worse it felt. Instead of getting used to having the bed himself, it was hurting more and more the spot next to him was empty. He tried to tell himself it was irrational, he tried to tell himself that they’d only shared a bed a handful of times. Thomas arms around him, the weight and heat him, was something rare and unique…. He should miss it like he would a limb, it shouldn’t leave a hole inside of him. But he was, he missed him, he remembered the weight of him, he remembered the beat of his heart in his chest — Jimmy’s ear against Thomas' chest, listening to the best song in the world. 

He yawned again as he reached the end of the stairs and saw a bunch of post on the table by the entrance. He hurried over to it and shuffled through the envelopes and various magazines. It was on the bottom, of course, it was, he thought wryly, and he hurriedly tore open it open, the sound satisfying to his ears. 

Jimmy started reading while walking backward, to sit own the stairs as he read the letter. All exhaustion fell from his shoulders, he felt a weight lifted at the sight of Thomas’s precise handwriting and his words. Sharp and witty and they never tired of telling other about how they managed their days and their wishes for when they saw each other again. Which was what Jimmy skimming the letter a bit quickly — he would read about the latest trouble Sybbie and George managed to cause and grin at how endearing Thomas’ love for the children was. He never thought he’d find a thing so wonderful, but it did things to his heart and thought maybe that was what love did — make even the least soppy of gits soft. But he skimmed it and searched for the answer to the question he posed. 

When he found it his face fell. 

_I wish I could say the first weekend of next month would be a wonderful time for you to visit… anytime would be a wonderful time for you to visit if I had my say in it. But now isn’t a good time at all — both because we’re quite hectic at the moment they’re having guests coming to stay for a fortnight. But also, as you know both Carson and his Lordship are worried about appearances and wish me to keep our relationship quieter than we have been. I think we’ve been bloody quiet but it’s what it is — the price of them knowing me for who I am, suppose. Or maybe the price for me not hiding how you make me feel, how much happier I am and don’t think it doesn’t hurt me to turn your offer down. Perhaps in a few months, things will be quieter here, with no visitors and enough time has passed his Lordships gentle nature will allow a bit of leeway._

It was his fault, he thought, calling Thomas like that… It wasn’t something he , but he’d taken the risk one too many times. Thomas taking it in the foyer — he remembered teasing him for it. Being proud about it, about them doing that under their noses. He hated the world for thinking they should be quiet and sometimes he forgot he had to be — living like he did, with Cassandra and his bandmates. The had a pocket, a place to hide in plain sight.

Jimmy ached for Thomas to live here. With him. Where he could stand tall and proud. Where he could be the man he was meant to be, one who didn’t have to curtail his very being. Not having to hide behind the shadows and feeling out of place in a place in that was meant to be his home. 

He thought about what Thomas told him about becoming the Butler at Downton, about how broke and alone he felt. How he never wanted to leave the place because it had become the only home he knew — yet they tossed him aside, expected him to go, even after he nearly lost his life for feeling so alone and unwanted. 

Unwanted, Jimmy felt another jolt of guilt and anger. He’d wanted him, he’d wanted Thomas that entire time, but he never wrote, never told him. And maybe the man he loved wouldn’t have scars on his skin if been brave enough to risk doing it a letter, to not procrastinate. All because a piece of him was still afraid and a piece of him thought maybe it was all too late. 

But it hadn’t been. 

He reread Thomas words, thoughts about ignoring Thomas’s wishes and rushing to Downton anyway, surprising him, finding time for them to sneak away and just be together. He could handle it if even all that happened were a few stolen moments, smoking outside — like they used to during his time at Downton. Probably the of the best times of his life, and he left without realizing it. They’d wasted so much time - he had wasted so much of their time. He hated it, he wanted it to change but how could it when they were miles apart, and the world wasn’t going to make it easy for them to see each other?

“Jimmy, Jimmy?”

Jimmy blinked and looked up from the paper clutched in his hands. It was one of waitstaff standing in front of him, looking at him like he really didn’t wish to be interrupting him. Yet he was, and Jimmy swallowed the urge to tell him to get lost. “What?”

“The grocery order is screwed up, and I can’t find Peter anywhere to sort it.”

“And…” Jimmy blinked at him.

“Cass said if he’s not around and I can’t find her, to go to you.”

“Where is she?”

“She went out on errands.”

Jimmy grumbled as he stood up. He felt he was doing Peter’s job for him more and more of late. He was always screwing up things, doing things wrong, it was a wonder he wasn’t costing Cassandra business. He was costing her money. He looked at the letter before shoving it into his pocket. Thomas could do Peter’s job, he had a bit when he was visiting and everything been smoother. It’d be the perfect fix to the situation — but maybe it was just too good to be true. He’d hinted it at Cassandra, but all he managed to get out of her was her not wanting to turn out Peter…

She didn’t give up on people easily, he supposed. Peter felt like a lost cause to him though — or maybe it was because he just didn’t like the buffoon. Or maybe it because he wasn’t sure Thomas would want to manage a club. He wasn’t sure he'd want to give up his role at Downton Abbey. He’d earned it, and he was worthy of it. Though a part of Jimmy thought they still didn’t understand that at Downton Abbey. Didn’t judge Thomas on how great he was his job, how he was always instrumental in the smooth running of Downton. He was always one step ahead of the Crawley’s, doing things before the even thought to ask him. Carson never gave him credit and from what Jimmy knew, they’d only offered the job to Thomas because Carson needed to retire. 

It hadn’t been about Thomas.

He deserved better, Jimmy thought and looked around where he stood. The bustle of the place, everyone getting ready, the warmth and the knowledge it was a safe place. People would know Thomas’ worth here, he thought… 

But would Thomas want to leave? All the pain and hard work, he told Jimmy more than once it was the only home he’d ever known, despite the people never truly seeing the real man behind his snarky facade.

“Jimmy?”

Jimmy sighed as the waiter interrupted his thoughts again, but he nodded. “Fine, I’ll sort it, tell me what the problem?”

~~~

Edgar Burns wasn’t much older than Thomas himself and seemed relieved when his Lordship offered him the job as Downton Abbey’s butler. Thomas thought he saw something of himself in the way the man shoulders relaxed. They'd spoken in the interview about service not being what it once was and how it was hard to find a home to work in these days. Perhaps it was why Thomas had chosen him to introduce to Lord Grantham. He felt an odd satisfaction at helping the man and knew his past self would never felt such a thing. 

Lord Grantham gave Thomas a smile, relief evident his expression. As usual, the Crawley’s wouldn’t be sad to see the back of him. It was quite obvious, oh they were nice and kind. They were saying all the correct things, but there was no real sincerity. It made it all the more clear he was making the right choice — he knew it already. He was choosing Jimmy. That was always the right choice, but it was more than that…

He was leaving Downton Abbey. Finally. He felt a bit like he had when he left it during the war — before he realized his mistake in signing up to be a medic. He’d felt free, then, walking away. Getting away from the place that had regulated him to the shadows. People saw him for what he was, but they’d never seen him for who he was… 

Except for Jimmy. Always Jimmy. 

He smiled at Lord Grantham. His smile all about his future, about his escape. About how he was finally leaving all the heartache and pain of this behind him. There were a few good memories, there were people he would miss — but he suspected he’d miss them more than they’d miss him. But that was all right he thought, it was all right because he knew he wouldn’t be homesick for this place. Not this time. 

“Well, I believe we all set and you will start Monday morning, Burns,” Lord Grantham clapped his hands together.

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Burns nodded. “I’ll go and get settled in for the night and see you in the morning.” 

He turned toward Thomas. “Mr. Barrow.”

“The office will be clear and ready for you,” Thomas said with a smile. 

Mr. Burns nodded and walked off. 

Thomas watched him and again felt a kindness toward him and hoped he would find happiness here, even it has always eluded him. 

“Barrow…” Lord Grantham started. 

Thomas looked him in the eye. 

“It’s been a tumultuous journey, to be truthful but the past few years you have served us quite well. Done Carson and myself proud.”

Thomas smiled, his servant smile, the only smile Robert Crawley knew existed. Carson, of course, it was about Carson and him — but that was how always was, and he felt a wish that Mr. Burn’s take over wouldn’t run smoothly that they would feel the bump that never came when he took over full Butler duties from Carson. It would serve the right, he thought. 

“Downton has been my home for a long time, my Lord. I will miss it.” Thomas bowed slightly and turned, ending the discussion, ending the goodbye, because there was no reason to linger. He would miss he thought, it was too much a piece of him. For better but mostly for worse. It would take time for him leave it behind completely, but he knew would never look back. 

Not this time. 

He was just at the servant's stairs when he heard his name being called out. He turned and saw Lady Mary standing by the main staircase. He walked over to her, and she gave him a sad smile. “How may I help you?”

“The children wish to see you.”

“I’ve already said goodbye to them, at breakfast,” he stammered, and his heart pounded a bit. George and Sybbie, he would miss them, quite a bit. He knew missing them would make his heartache. They always saw him, they laughed and cried into his shoulder, they saw him as their Barrow, as their friend. He’d hugged them tightly, earlier in they and told them he would always be their friend. He knew he’d never see them again, but the sentiment was real. 

“I realize, but they’ve… well, come up to the nursery please?” Lady Mary asked with the same sad smile. 

He didn’t want too, his heart might not be able to take it, but he couldn’t very well say no either. He nodded and followed Lady Mary up the stairs and toward the nursery. He was surprised to see Tom Branson inside it, Sybbie on his hip. Sybbie squealed when she saw him and lunged toward him, and Thomas found himself holding her in less than a split second. George rushed up and hugged his leg, and Thomas was taken back to the last time he left. George in his arms and Sybbie at his leg that time… and his heart full just like now. 

Sybbie had a piece of paper in her hands. “We made you a goodbye present.”

“Did you?”

“Yes!” George shouted. 

Sybbie handed him the paper. He took it and saw two drawings on it. From what he could tell it was two child renderings of him carrying them on his shoulders. Their favorite pastime and his back’s least favorite pastime. He grinned at it and thanked them both. 

“Don’t go,” George said. 

Thomas knelt down to be on his level. “I have to go, but we’ll always be friends.”

“He’ll write to you, won’t you Barrow?” Mary said. 

Thomas looked up at her surprised. 

“To us?” Sybbie said in awe into his ear.

“Of course, like real grown-ups you’ll get letters. Won’t they?” Mary said. 

Thomas stood up and nodded. “Of course, I would love to write to Miss Sybbie and Master George.”

“Very well then, that’s all set,” Mary said, and she scooped up George. 

Branson reached out, and Thomas handed back Sybbie. 

“You’ve always been kind to her,” Tom said. 

Thomas couldn’t quite hide his shock at that. 

“Sybil… always spoke highly of you.”

“Lady Sybil was the kindness person, I knew,” Thomas said and touched Sybbie’s head. “She’ll take after her.”

“I know,” Tom said proudly.

Thomas ruffled both Sybbie and George’s hair and left the room. Lady Mary was soon beside him and looked at her. 

“I thought we’d be like my father and Carson. Grow old as we ran this house together.” 

Thomas couldn’t help but smirk a bit. 

“My son would go to you for all the things I’m too distant for…” Mary sighed. “Do write to him. To Sybbie, Barrow.”

“Yes, M’Lady.”

“I do think this place will be a bit boring without you, Barrow,” she stated before walking toward her bedrooms. 

Thomas stared after her for a second and shook his head. He made his way downstairs, he still had things to clear out of his office and put in the boxes that were being sent behind him to Cassandra’s care. He would leave on the first train out the next morning. Yet, a part of him still felt a bit like it wasn’t true, the boxes when he walked into the room helped but his attention was elsewhere. 

Baxter sat in a chair with her sewing. He raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled at him and continued sewing. 

“Baxter?”

“If you thought you were going to leave with a minimum goodbye to me, you were quite wrong, Thomas.” 

“I haven’t been avoiding you?”

“Haven’t you?” She shook her head. “We’re friends aren’t we.”

“Of course…” he breathed out, and he felt it sincerely. She was his one true friend. He smiled at her. “I wasn’t avoiding, not really, I just… don’t know how to say goodbye.”

“Who says we have too?” She grinned and pointed to his chair. “Sit.”

He obeyed.


	37. Chapter 37

Thomas felt Baxter eyes on him as he made his way to his desk. It felt quite heavy to him, she wasn’t one for direct looks for longer than a few seconds, meek and quiet by nature. But she was looking at him now, and he felt himself start to squirm a bit under the stare. It was an echo of the time when she was the only one who noticed him. Noticed him quietly falling apart, saw that he needed a friend, noticed he needed to be saved. He felt beholden but he felt unworthy and sometimes when she looked at him for a moment too long, he fell back in time and really wished to be unseen because he didn’t want to remember. 

“I remember,” she said. 

“What?” he said a bit sharply, afraid she might echo his thoughts. 

She smiled warmly. “I remember you, from your before, you know.”

“My what?”

“Before you became… sharp.”

He shook his head. 

“Before your father… started being unkind.”

Thomas pressed his lips together. “I rather not…”

“I won’t, not really,” she hurried. “It’s just, I remember when Margaret and I were doing… well, whatever it was we did as little girls, you were always playing with the unwanted clocks. The ones that couldn’t be fixed, or weren’t worth fixing in the back of the shop. You sat with the pieces and the clocks, just tinkering away… So focused and quiet. But smiling. You were always smiling. I remember thinking it was a secret smile back then, it was something I didn’t recognize, didn’t know yet I suppose.”

He remembered the shop, he remembered learning all the parts to a clock, how they worked, taking in every word, every instruction, ever tiny bit of knowledge his father shared — even when he wasn’t teaching Thomas, he kept his ears out and watched what his father did. He spent hours in the back of the shop, trying to fix and understand the clocks discarded on that workbench. He had always been happy, warm and at ease. That was until his father realized he liked clock parts more than girls. Before he realized he loved boys more clock parts. He frowned and made a noise. 

“I have a point,” Baxter said. 

He nodded at her to continue.

“I’ve seen that smile again, it’s what made me remember those days. You smile now, that same little secret smile… I know what it is now, contentment born of love.”

He blushed. 

“The little boy was happy with clock pieces, and now you’re happy, for maybe the first time since then…” she pressed a bit. 

But he nodded, unable to pretend it wasn’t true and felt a twitch of his mouth as he thought about Jimmy, but more so their room. The fireplace, the desk beside it where there was already a broken clock. One of Cassandra’s that he promised to fix but hadn’t been able to due to a missing part before he left.

His home. What was waiting for him. Held the things that mattered to him far more than anything here. He wasn’t going to be taken for granted, ever again, he realized, but he looked up into Baxter’s brown eyes and knew he was looking at the one person in Downton who didn’t take him for granted. Who remembered warm things about him, who remembered him kindly, who saw his strength far more than his weaknesses. One of the rare few in his life. He felt a punch of loss at the thought of leaving her behind. 

“I’ll miss you, Thomas,” she said this time truly echoing his thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, Phyllis,” he said, and his voice sounded too high to his ears, and he knew he was blushing. He felt overwhelmed, and he was never sure what to do when he felt so emotionally honest. It threw him unless he was with Jimmy — that wasn’t true it threw him there, but it was different. This wasn’t at all what they had, but it was special he supposed. “You’ve been a true friend to me,” he said and felt better for saying it aloud. 

She smiled and looked away. “I’m unsure what this place will do without you.”

“Steady on,” he said. “As it did without Carson.”

“Quite different this time… no, I think it’ll be a bumpy year at least.”

Thomas shook his head. 

“You’ll write to me.”

It was quite clear to him that wasn’t a question, that was an order if it was anything beyond a statement. He found himself nodding, though he worried what he could write to her. She wouldn’t wish to know the details of his life, as open and she and the others seemed to be trying to be. They were still awkward when conversations went to close to the truth of it — he was leaving to live with a man. 

“I want to know you’re happy…. That’s all,” she said.

“You’ve just spoken about how I am,” he said with a small laugh.

“I want to see the proof, know what I…what I can of your new life. Do you think you’ll like it?”

“I expect the job will be much like running Downton, might be simpler in ways but I expect some surprises it is all new after all… And it won’t be so, time consuming. And I’ll… I’ll see him every day, and I have missed it, that, seeing him every day. It was my best times here, when he was here, my happiest time in serving here. When I visited him… It felt like home.”

“And it never has here?”

Thomas frowned. “That’s not true, really, but…. This was my home, it is, in ways, I quite feel I’ve left pieces of my soul in these hallways. I’ve been here so long, more than half my life, really. I thought I would die here, to be honest, die here and be buried here. I’d quite, settled with that idea after I stepped into Carson’s shoes… I was so happy too, so happy to be back here, because...” He paused then laughed. “Life has never been boring here, though there are days and weeks, but the Crawley’s…. They're a lively bunch, unique even I think and our staff… well, we’re a family I guess. I wasn’t much a part of it for too long, but I think I figured out how to be eventually. So, yes, Downton’s been a home, it’s been a sanctuary more than once in my life and I thought… I thought it was all I could have. The comfort of knowing it well, of knowing you all well, I thought the safety that well-worn knowledge of how the Crawley’s like their tea was all the happiness I was allowed.” 

Miss Baxter sighed.

“It does sound quite sad spoken out loud doesn’t it.” 

“You were settling.”

“I had too,” he said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he was out there in love with me too.”

“Oh…” Baxter tried to swallow her reaction, and she looked away for a moment. “So bold,” she muttered after a moment. “I will miss that, you being to just say things. He did it too, Jimmy, I remember some of the things that came out of his mouth. Quite thought a few times he’d give Carson a heart attack.”

Thomas nodded and thought he often wished Jimmy had managed. “I lost it for a bit,” he said. “Being bold.” He regarded her and remembered again, who she really was to him. “You pulled me out of my darkest hole, Phyllis. You made it possible for me to be bold again and I do thank you.”

She nodded shyly and then cleared her throat after a moment. “You have things to tend too… and I don’t like saying goodbye.”

“I promise to write,” he said.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Thomas,” she stood up and surprised him by walking around the desk and kissing his cheek. He never knew what do when his cheek was kissed, he made an awkward noise and smiled at her. But it took him a while to shake the nerves that riled up and even longer the tiny bit of melancholy at knowing he’d likely never see her again. 

~~~

He was startled when he walked into the kitchen to find Daisy standing in front of the stove sipping tea. She jumped when she saw him and smiled. He nodded and went to check the kettle. 

“It’s still hot,” she said.

“You’re here late.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to say goodbye, Thomas.”

“Oh…” he said.

She stared him with her big brown eyes. “I had a crush on you once.”

He blushed as he remembered both her crush and how he’d used it to his own advantage. He felt chagrined as he looked at her know.

“Mrs. Patmore tried to explain to me why I should’ve…”

Thomas shook his head and wondered how that conversation went. 

“Never understood a word she said until I saw you kissing Jimmy.”

He blushed deeper, recalling his passionate and angry embrace with Jimmy in the servant’s hall when he crashed back into Thomas life saying sentences that belonged in Thomas’ fantasies out loud. He hurriedly poured himself a cup of tea and tried to find the words to apologize to her for such an impolite action. 

“Is that why?”

“What?” he asked. 

“You’ve always been so unhappy?”

“Oh.” He nodded. 

Daisy nodded back. “I never picked the right man,” she bit her lip. 

“Never was good at that myself,” he heard himself admit.

“You picked Jimmy.”

“It didn’t work out at first.”

“Why?”

“Jimmy wasn’t ready at first…” Thomas revealed.

“Because it’s… illegal?”

“No, that would’ve never bothered him.”

Daisy's eyes widened, but then she laughed. “I suppose not.” 

“He didn’t know yet, that he liked men, hadn’t admitted it and it’s not really a thing one should admit.” 

“But you do.”

“That may be a character flaw.” 

“I just…” Daisy sighed. “I liked you. I liked Alfred. You couldn’t like me. Alfred wanted Ivy. I… think I like Andy and it seems he likes me but…”

“What?”

“How do I know? I was always getting it wrong.”

“Only have to get right once if you’re lucky,” Thomas said. “And…” he nodded to himself. “The real secret is that relationships aren’t simple or easy Daisy. Jimmy…. Had to figure things out for himself. Then I had to learn to forgive him for that… Andy does like you, quite a bit and he’s a good lad, Daisy. Maybe you didn’t see him as someone you liked right away, maybe it’s knowing him that changed your mind? Learn more about him and see how it goes.”

“Oh,” she said. 

“You’re bright Daisy, thinking too much can be a hazard.”

Daisy nodded then she leaned up to her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll miss you, Thomas, it was always strange when you weren’t here, you’ve been here near my whole life.” 

“I’ll miss you too, Daisy.”

She smiled and walked away. 

He watched her and shook his head. 

~~~

He was shocked to find Anna coming down the stairs as he made his way up to deal with the last loose ends his bedroom. They met on a landing, and she gave him a tired smile. 

“Sometimes the day gets away from you,” Anna said to him. “I think this day got away from me because everything is all topsy turvy because you are leaving.” 

“I find I do not feel bad about that,” he said.

“No. You wouldn’t,” Anna grinned at him. “But, I’m happy for this serendipity.”

“Are you?”

“I wouldn’t see you tomorrow, or later today if I’m right about the hour.”

“You’re right.”

“I wanted to say goodbye, but there were no chances earlier. I stopped by your office but Miss Baxter was inside, and well, her goodbye was quite more important wasn’t it…”

“I…” Thomas shook his head. “You aren’t unimportant to me.”

Anna sighed. “There have been times I have hated your Thomas Barrow.” 

“I know,” he said. “I wanted you to.”

“What?” she was taken aback.

Thomas couldn’t help his laughter. 

“You wanted me too?”

“I hated you, you and him, Mr. Bates. I hated you two because you were love.” 

“You…”

“It was so easy for you two.”

“Mr. Bates and I have never had it easy.”

He sighed. “But you loved each other, you could say it, you could look at each other and smile. You were given a cottage, Mr. Bates never needed to worry about his job here, not once...” Thomas sighed. “I envied it all, and I never stopped. I still do, I’ll never be able to allow myself to look at Jimmy like he’s everything in public. Means I can’t look at him at all when we are in polite company. They wanted me to leave again, they would have made me leave if I hadn’t beat them too it… Again, I would have been made to leave because of what I am… Despite how good I am at the job, I’m too much risk of scandal.” 

She sighed. 

“I loved you too though, Anna.”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have managed losing Lady Sybil without you,” he admitted. “You stood up for me, and you knew, you knew she and I — were true friends.” 

Anna nodded. “I miss her still.”

“As do I… I do regret not being able to watch Miss Sybbie grow…”

“I’ve been told you’ll be writing her.”

Thomas smiled. “Yes.”

Anna suddenly yawned and covered her mouth in horror. “Oh dear, I must get home and into bed if even only for a few hours… Do hope you’ll find peace with Jimmy.”

“I already have,” he said. 

Anna nodded and patted his arm as she passed by him. He listened to her footsteps until she was too far away to be heard. Smiling he made himself finish walking up the stairs. 

~~~

It was raining which felt typical to Thomas, he finished putting what was left of his things into the car. The things he hadn’t sent ahead into Cassandra’s care. It wasn’t much, it was just a few bags, and they’d be cumbersome, but he could carry them from the station to The Phoenix. The driver asked if they had for him to have some tea before they left and he nodded. 

It was quite early, they did have the time, the sun was still rising, but the sky wasn’t going to get much lighter with the rain clouds overhead. He shivered a bit but didn’t feel like going inside. He was tired though and let his body lean against the brick of the alcove, and he lit a cigarette. Feeling the bittersweetness of how it would be his last one smoked in the courtyard of Downton Abbey. 

“Haven’t we met here before?” Mrs. Hughes voice broke him away from the thought. 

He looked up and saw her smiling at him, it wasn’t an odd sight any longer, but it always felt new to him. He smiled back and gave her a questioning look.

“In this spot, I have found you contemplating the leaving of Downton Abbey more than once. I must say it’s nice it’s finally with a smile on your face.”

He laughed and thought of the times she’d found him struggling out here. Once feeling rescued and once feeling misunderstood. “A bit of déjà vu I suppose.”   
“I came in early to catch you.”

“You didn’t…”

“Thomas Barrow, I was here when you were hired, and I will say goodbye to you.”

“Very well.”

“You impossible boy.”

He couldn’t help the smirk, but he looked away. He’d hoped not to have to say goodbye to her. It would hurt, like her kind smiles always felt new they always hurt too… It felt like it took him to long to earn them and a bit of him was angry it was his pain that brought in the new understanding. 

“I’m quite sorry to see you leaving, I always was…”

“Maybe not the first time, after I stole the wine.”

“You stole the wine?” she asked and started chuckling.

“I thought you knew?”

“Did I?” She shook her head. “I may have, may not have… that was long ago and when you came back from the war. Well, you turned out, and you were, are… We took you for granted.”

His mouth fell open.

“Flies,” she scolded and tapped his chin. “We did. I realized when you left, and Mr. Carson was running the place, he was quite rushed and hurried. It wasn’t just his illness, Thomas, it was a hole. I felt overwhelmed and wondered what it was... then I realized it was all the little things you did every single day that we just never noticed. You are good at this job and this...” She trailed off and frowned. “Club… is lucky to have such a professional taken over the reins.”

Thomas coughed a bit on the smoke in his lungs, he was overwhelmed, and he felt his eyes pricking as he fought the tears. He wouldn’t cry, it just wouldn’t do, but it was the first time it’d been spoken. The only time it would ever be spoken. His heart was beating, and he thought he should thank you, yet those words felt so terribly small for the emotion he felt. “I don’t…”

“You don’t need to say anything. That is something you were owed. You’ve changed in many ways Thomas and not in others. You’re sharp, too clever for your own good and not as smart as you think you are…”

He shook his head. 

“I didn’t see your heart until it was too late.” 

“I hid it.”

“And I suppose you had to… I don’t like Jimmy Kent.”

He stiffened.

“Don’t have a go at me… He was a vain boy, thought he was God’s gift and he hurt you more than once.”

“It wasn’t…”

“What’s between you boys is your business. But know, know that no matter what Mr. Carson might say — I can manage Mr. Carson — if that boy hurts you again you can come back here and find me.” 

Thomas gawped at her, his head swimming. His brain was buzzing, and everything felt suddenly quite foggy. He felt drizzle against his face his mind slowly processing her words and the emotion. “Mrs. Hughes…”

“It’s quite all right,” she smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I…” he blushed. “He won’t,” he said finally, the need to protect Jimmy strong enough to push through how stunned and shocked he felt at this revelation and offer. “But, thank you,” he muttered and again thought them small words. 

“Here is Gus…” Mrs. Hughes smiled. “Off you go then.”

He nodded at her, a small smile, then made his way to the car. He slipped into the back and felt a bit of a jolt as the car started moving. Away from the house and he thought he wouldn’t look back. There was no reason too after all. He was heading in the right direction, he was heading toward his true home…

But he looked back after a while, before it would be too late, the house grand and large against the dark sky. It looked formidable and beautiful, and he smiled sadly and whispered…

_Good Bye._


	38. Chapter 38

Thomas had never been a fan of crowds, but there something was relieving about the buzzing throng of people in The Phoenix. He stood outside of it, in the back hall after instructing someone whose name he would need to learn to bring his luggage stairs. The place was warm, the conversation hummed, and no one looked out of place or even felt as if they felt out of place, Thomas thought as he studied the crowd from the threshold he was peering out at them at. He was in sight of the stage, but he could hear the music, it was bits and bobs right now — tuning up, he thought, and he closed his eyes, steadied his hand on the wood of the door. 

Jimmy waited. 

“He’s quite fed up with me,” Cassandra’s voice was airy and her tone familiar. “Though, he was quite happy to hear Peter quit last night.” 

Thomas snorted. “Quit?”

“We’re being polite about it Mr. Barrow… I gave him quite a lovely reference, my name does carry weight you know.”

He glanced at her and tried to recall her surname, but it didn’t appear to him. She held his gaze and gave him a smile, one that showed none of her secrets. She looked young and old to him that moment, and he remembered Jimmy writing something similar to him. She winked at him and leaned forward, her lips nearly touching his ear. “You’re mine now.”

He blinked at her and felt rooted to the spot. He shivered, though it wasn’t from fear or anything of that sort. He was awed though and found himself shaking his head at her. “I belong to no woman.”

She laughed, loudly and people turned to look at them, and Thomas was reminded of the crowd, but it was the music he heard. The music and the voice, his voice. His Jimmy, singing deep and resonant. And an altogether different shiver rolled down his spine and had his moving into the crowd. 

The crowd grew denser as he made his way closer, tables full, people standing — he remembered the first night he walked into The Phoenix, surprised by the crowd but he was sure it was less than this, his Jimmy’s popularity was only growing he thought proudly and stopped short the moment he caught sight of him….

He didn’t want to be seen. Jimmy would stop playing, and it wouldn’t do for a few reasons, Thomas smirked. He glanced around and took in all the patrons, they were all his responsibility now, and he wouldn’t dare deny them their moment to bask in the talent that was Jimmy Kent. He wouldn’t deny himself either, that was for sure — but his show would be private, and it would only belong to him. He felt a rush of possession as he glanced at Jimmy’s profile and the set of his shoulders. Watched his fingers glide over the keyboard of the piano — long fingers, hands that could touch him and play him perfectly. 

He felt the ghost of their touch, it felt too faded — it’d been far too long. The impulse to forge closer, to stare harder, to bring Jimmy’s eyes to his own fluttered under his skin and had his feet twitching to move. But held back, patience was something he learned over the years, anticipation was a gift, he told himself. He licked his lips though and let out a soft groan. 

Jimmy was bloody beautiful, the fucking bastard. Thomas bit his lip and looked his fill. Just a few more minutes and then he turned back, to go back behind the club. There were his things to get upstairs, the things he’d sent ahead had been ferreted into storage by Cassandra and two of her staff she’d sworn to secrecy. This wasn’t his first night at work, but it was his first night home — he wanted to unpack as much as he could before Jimmy made his way up the stairs. 

Just a few more moments, he promised himself again, raking his eyes on Jimmy’s broad shoulders, his perfect profile, those full lips curved into a bit of smile as he sang something that felt achingly familiar despite Thomas knowing it was a strange song to his ears. But he knew it’s richness, he knew the voice that echoed in every note. It was a Jimmy Kent original, like them all, like he knew it would be… 

His last letter had spoken about trying out new material, forcing himself to not play all his sadder songs because he was homesick for Thomas. How he wanted to keep the crowds coming, didn’t want them to get bored and it was clear how important it was to Jimmy. How much he cared. About a job and it amazed Thomas how deeply he’d changed while remaining the same. 

A ghost of kiss pressed against his lips as he stared at Jimmy’s mouth, again to faded but soon he’d remember the full force of the touch, he reminded himself and impatience rushed him, and he frowned. “Virtue,” he muttered to himself and spun on his heel, afraid his will to stay strong would shatter if he stared and listened any longer. 

He got a few strange looks as he walked away from the stage, away from the band, away from Jimmy and he understood them all. He wasn’t in the staff uniform, and no one really knew him — yet. He smiled at that, they would know him soon enough. His name. And who he belonged too, and he felt proud of that and petty. He wanted them to know Jimmy was his, belonged to him and no one else… He was the one who knew his love, his mouth, his hands, who inspired the songs. 

He was almost back to the back of the building when a hand touched his arm. He turned to see Gregory and Albert, carrying wine in their hands, Albert two glasses — the second likely to belong to poor Sebastian, who would never get to touch his man, Thomas thought with a bit of glee. He smiled at his two friends because they were his friends, they’d exchanged a few letters, though he hadn’t told him his secret. Afraid they’d say Sebastian, and the fool would tell Jimmy.

“We didn’t know you were coming,” Gregory smiled. 

“It’s a surprise.”

Albert glanced in the direction of the stage. “Thank goodness, he’s been quite surly the last week.”

“Month really… doesn’t stop him from wowing the crowd every night, however.”

“If anything it’s made some songs more stunning,” Gregory told him. “How long will you be staying?”

Thomas opened his mouth to tell them, tell them he wasn’t leaving but found he couldn’t. He couldn’t say it to them, before he told Jimmy and a lie fell smoothly from his mouth. “It hasn’t been decided.”

“Come with us, we can squeeze you in at the table, Jimmy insists your chair stay empty.”

Thomas laughed at the revelation, his heart hammering and not quite believing the story. 

“He’s got quite the temper, a young woman sat in it one night, it wasn’t pretty…” 

“He didn’t…”

“Cass was able to pacify her, think she quite enjoyed that,” Gregory laughed. “But yes, since then it’s been known that no one sits in your in your place.” 

Thomas felt his throat constrict a bit and he looked back toward the stage. The pull to go to it, to sit yanking at him again, a rein around his heart that was owned by Jimmy. It’d been so long, too long and thank goodness there would be no longer be a train ride between them. No more letters their only contact, he knew this, he felt it already, but it was feeling more and more real. 

“Come and sit…” Albert said again. 

“I can’t…” Thomas’ voice sounded strangled to his ears, fighting against himself and cursing his impatience. 

“But why?” Gregory said.

“Cass requested I not to ruin the set…” he lied. 

The two men gave each other a knowing look and nodded. They knew. They’d seen them enough to understand. Maybe they wouldn’t be so greedy after a few months of living together, but Thomas wondered if that’d be true. Could really ever not want all of Jimmy’s attention at all times after so long without it… 

“I’ll see you both tomorrow?” he asked them as a way to push himself to leave. 

The nodded and made their way through the crowd, and he envied them being allowed to go toward Jimmy. He took in a deep breath, straightened his spine and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket as he made his way toward the back. He found the two men, Cassandra had entrusted to aid him, with his things already heading up the stairs. He nodded at them both and set about helping them get all his things into the room. He would busy himself with unpacking and try with all his might to stay away from Jimmy until the man came to him. 

He looked forward to the surprise of it, he wondered what his face might look like, he couldn’t guess at what he might say or do — he hoped Jimmy wouldn’t feel his space was being infringed on. A piece of him knew he wouldn’t, knew he’d want Thomas and his things with him, the two of them together. Nothing else, but he couldn’t help the insecurity. He couldn’t help fearing just a little bit Jimmy might not be happy with this twist Thomas was throwing at him. 

But when he walked into the room his eyes fell on the bed, or rather the pillows. Thomas’ pillow to be exact, the one he’d slept on when he visited so many months ago now. On it were letters, a blue ribbon around them but it was untied. He knew them, he wrote them, all of them where there it seemed, days and days worth of correspondence. Kept where Jimmy needn’t take his eyes off of them. 

Thomas smiled and felt the insecurity fall away. 

~~~

Jimmy was knackered. He sat on the piano bench. He’d finished the last song about an hour ago, but he had to talk to the crowd before they’d finally make their way back to their tables or out of the club for the night. Cassandra was annoyed by the fans who swanned out the moment he stopped singing or interacting with them, and he didn’t blame her. He tried to tell them to go drink and mingle. It was the point of the place, after all, the rooms she’d carefully structured into the building where there for a reason. Though he’d never used them because he had his own room and the only man allowed in was Thomas.

Who was bloody miles away and he growled a bit and tried to find the energy to stand up. Instead he closed the keylid, feeling satisfied at its hard snap. He closed it and looked around. It was late, but there were a good amount of men and women around the tables, near the bars, the club would be closing soon, and he hoped Cassandra was happy with the turnout. Thinking about her reminded him that Peter had upped and vanished last night — which was why he was so knackered. It felt like the man really disappeared a week ago, barely around and when he was no help. He couldn’t quite believe he just quit. He wasn’t at all sad about it, in fact, he was thrilled, and he had a plan…

He just wasn’t sure if Thomas would go for it. Downton was his home, it’d saved him, he told Jimmy this in not so many words. It was his in his blood, Jimmy thought, Downton. He never known Thomas without it, it was an odd thought — but Thomas fit in here, he knew it, he’s seen it, and he loved nothing more than looking up during a song Thomas inspired him to write to see his face…

To see him staring right at him as if he was the sun. God, how he didn’t deserve it, he thought. The plan though to get him in that seat, every night, at least for a bit here and there. He’d be busy if Jimmy got his way after all. That plan made him stand up finally. He turned to speak to his bandmates but found they’d left him behind. He felt a bit chagrinned at that, he hadn’t been a good mate lately at all. Surly and moody, missing Thomas and being made to do Peter’s job by Cass. It sucked being the only one who had the actual skills needed, but he was far inferior to Thomas, if superior to the moron. 

He made his way slowly toward the back, heading for Cassandra’s small office. The door was slightly ajar, but he pushed it open more very slowly, peeking inside. He didn’t want to bother her if she had someone with her, which was often the case. But all he saw as her, sitting at her desk, tapping a pen against a piece of paper. Though it looked as if she’d written nothing. He knocked on the door, though he was already inside. 

“Oh you,” she said seeing him. “Go to bed.”

“I should… do the close up, right?”

“Not tonight, I’ll do all of it.”

“That’s a lot…” he said.

“It’s just one night.”

“Well, not really, until you can replace Peter.”

“Already have.”

“What?” he barked. 

“Go on, go to bed, Jimmy.”

“Who?” he said feeling spun and not at all happy.

“Oh, you’ll love him.”

“I doubt it, I was going to suggest Thomas.”

“Shocking suggestion,” she laughed. 

“Who is it?”

“No one you need to worry about.”

“When do they start.”

“Tomorrow, maybe, might have issues getting them out of bed.”

“Then why’d you hire them,” Jimmy snapped.

“Look, this place runs nightly, I really couldn’t be without someone more than a night, Jimmy. Look how knackered you are from helping out a few nights and doing your sets. No, no, I had to make sure there was a fast turn over. It’s done, and I have a lot to do, so go get some sleep. Maybe it’ll help you be less moody.” 

“I’m not done on this subject.”

She just made a noise and gestured at him to leave.

Huffing he turned, only because he was tired and he didn’t want to swear at her and say things he didn’t really mean. But he’d had a plan, it wasn’t perfect, but it would’ve been worth a try, and now it was out of his hands. He stomped up the stairs, his mood getting worse and worse as did. He stopped short outside his door and looked around. Usually, there was a letter from Thomas waiting for him on the ground. Where was it?

“Hey, did I get a letter?” he asked seeing one of the staff.

“No, Jimmy.” They shrugged like it was no big deal.

He stared at the space where the letter was and thought the day couldn’t get worse. It wasn’t entirely unheard off, of course, Thomas was a busy man but it wasn’t normal, and the last time it turned out Thomas fallen ill with a cold. Worry ran through him, and he raked his hands through his hair. His shoulders slumped, and he remembered Thomas putting off visiting again, anytime soon…

All the reasons were — not good, but understandable. Though the worry for scandal for the house pissed Jimmy off and he hated the world for its hypocrisy and so-called moral standards. He hated his Lordship and Carson for caring more about surfaces than the people behind the walls. He sighed and knew it’d hurt Thomas, after all, he'd done to stay and be kinder to them all. He wanted to punch them for him, right in their noses and he knew the crack would be satisfying. 

So he practically kicked open his door and stalked into his room and nearly tripped over a trunk. He found his balance quickly, or at least his physical balance because as soon as he managed to not fall and took in the state of his room his eyes fall on the person standing in front of the wardrobe, putting underthings into a drawer…

Thomas. But not just Thomas. No Thomas with his hair falling into his eyes, his braces undone, tie and suit jacket off and buttons undone. He was a mess in a way, he looked rumpled and tired. And he turned toward Jimmy, looking smug and his mouth twitching up into a smile. 

“Don’t knock yourself out by falling, that wouldn’t do,” he said. 

“Don’t put your trunk in the middle of the room, then,” Jimmy countered as he walked around it and noticed more trunks and a valise, but he couldn’t focus on them. Not with Thomas standing right there and he walked over to him and grabbed the garments in his hands and shoved them into the drawer.

“Jimmy, you’ve messed them all up.”

“So they’ll wrinkle,” he shrugged, and he grabbed both ends of his undone tie and yanked Thomas into him, slotting their mouths together, where they belonged and to remind himself just how amazing it was to kiss him. 

He ended up swallowing words, Thomas meant to say, and he hummed against his mouth. Tasting his lips, cigarettes and the lemon cookies he knew Cass kept in her office. He pushed a hand into Thomas hair and another curled around his hip. Thomas was clutching at him, hands in his hair, then on his hips, running up his chest and then curving over his ass. He seemed to not where he wanted to be, except against Jimmy. 

It was mutual. And they were too clothed. He pulled away, Thomas chasing him and sighed and glanced at his door. Irritated he hadn’t closed it, he rushed over it, almost falling over the trunk again. Thomas’ laughter following behind him. But when he slammed the door shut and looked back over at him, he looked quite determined and serious and was stalking toward Jimmy. They met each other and started kissing again, yanking and shoving at their clothes. 

Jimmy angling them more and more toward the bed. He was about to shove a shirtless Thomas onto it, when Thomas pushed at his chest and turned, grabbing Jimmy’s letters carefully to put them on the nightstand. Jimmy blushed furiously, feeling caught out in the fact he had them right there on his bed — their bed? — But he’d been clinging Thomas’ words. 

“I missed you,” Thomas whispered as he turned back, a hand on Jimmy’s heated cheek and staring into his eyes. “God, I missed you.”

Jimmy ached, he ached, his chest hurt suddenly. The weight of what he’d been missing felt heavier with the subject being before him. Touching him. He’d known, but he hadn’t, he was always knocked off his feet by Thomas he thought and he rushed forward, kissing him again because he couldn’t say the words, he couldn’t say anything because it wouldn’t be enough…

Music pulsed in his mind and he wondered if he could free it onto the keyboard later — much later — he had better things to be doing with his hands he thought, and he shoved Thomas onto the bed and started yanking at his trousers. 

As soon as he freed Thomas of his clothes he tried to crawl over him, but a bossy voice was in his ear, kissing the skin behind and ordering him to get naked too. They kissed, stroked and touched. They became breathless and twined their hands, foreheads touching and breathed harshly sharing air. 

And then Jimmy was crooked under the covers, naked, sweaty and wrapped around Thomas’ side, trailing his fingers through his chest hair and inhaling the scent their skin. His eyes fell on the room, the trunks, the valise and he his heart hammered. “Are you home?”

“Yes.” 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Finally. I kind of feel like this story got away at me at some point and it's been a bit of a struggle but I was determined to finish it. Hope you all like it <3


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